Tirnrpflnr 

111  Sit 


l/J  \ 


A  TIGHT  SQUEEZE; 


OR, 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN, 

WHO,  ON  A  WAGER  OF  TEN  THOUSAND  DOLLARS, 

UNDERTOOK  TO  GO   FROM  NEW  YORK  TO 

NEW  ORLEANS  IN  THREE  WEEKS, 

WITHOUT   MONEY, 

AS  A  PROFESSIONAL  TRAMP. 


BY   "STAATS." 


BOSTON : 
LEE   AND   SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK: 

CHARLES  T.  DILUNGHAM 
l879. 


COPYRIGHT, 

1879, 
BY   GEORGE   M.  BAKER. 

All  Rights  Reserved. 


Stereotyped  by  C.  C.  Morse  &  Son, 
Haverhill,  Mass. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAGE. 

THE  PRODIGAL  AND  THE  WAGER        ....        9 

CHAPTER    II. 
THE  START 23 

CHAPTER    III. 
PROFESSIONAL  ADVICE 29 

CHAPTER    IV. 
OUR  HERO  MEETS  HIS  DESTINY          ....      36 

CHAPTER    V. 
OUR  HERO  EATS  THE  BREAD  OP  CHARITY         .        .      49 

CHAPTER    VI. 
UNDER  THE  CYCLOPEAN  EYK  .        •        .      5T 

CHAPTER    VII. 
THE  PULLMAN  Box  CAR  .  67 


O  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
A  BLOCK  IN  THE  WAY 77 

CHAPTER    IX, 
A  GLIMPSE  OF  DEATH 84 

CHAPTER    X. 
THE  MARCH  TO  FORT  DUQUESNE        .        .'  .91 

CHAPTER    XI. 
A  MYSTERY     .        .        .         ...        .        .        .97 

CHAPTER    XII. 

THE  GREAT  TRAMP  RENDEZVOUS        .         .        .        .105 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
INTRODUCES  THE  EVANGELIST 112 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
AN  UNCOMFORTABLE  NIGHT 120 

CHAPTER    XV. 
THE  HOTEL  DE  LOG 127 

CHAPTER    XVI. 
THE  EVANGELIST  INVESTS  IN  A  HORSE  135 


CONTENTS.  7 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

LlCKSKILLET   HAS   A   SENSATION  ....      144 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
JUDGE  LYNCH  HOLDS  COURT 152 

CHAPTER    XIX. 
THE  GREAT  HARVEST  RANGE 163 

CHAPTER    XX. 
OUR  HERO  REACHES  ST.  Louis          .        .         .        .     IT 2 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
A  SHAVE  WHICH  HAS  A  RESULT         .        .        .        .181 

CHAPTER    XXII. 
OFF  FOR  NEW  ORLEANS 188 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 
A  NIGHT  ON  DECK 192 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 
BEN  WALKS  THE  PLANK 200 

CHAPTER    XXV. 
OUR  HERO  TAKES  A  S^vlM 210 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 
THE  CASTAWAYS 220 

CHAPTEE    XXVII. 
CRUSOE  LIFE .    229 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
DEATH  SHAKES  HANDS  WITH  THE  CASTAWAYS         .        239 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

THE  CRUISE  OP  THE  "  ROARER  "        .        .  245 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

BEN  LOSES  HOPE  AND  TURNS  NAVIGATOR          .        .    253 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

I 
NEW  ORLEANS,  10  A.  M.,  OCT.  2o     .         .        .        .    263 

CHAPTER    XXXII. 
THE  LITTLE  PABTNER 268 

CHAPTER    XXXIII. 
IN  AT  THE  DEATH 276 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 
CONCLUSION      ....  281 


A  TIGHT  SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  PRODIGAL  AND  THE  "WAGEB. 

"  \  \  7ASSON,  what  is  a  tramp?" 
VV       "Dunno." 

"  Cleveland,  what  is  a  tramp  ?  " 

No  answer. 

"  Wasson,  accommodate  me,  if  you  please,  by  in- 
troducing the  extremity  of  your  boot  to  Mr.  Cleve- 
land." 

"  Ouch !  "What  in  thunder  are  you  kicking  me 
for,  Wasson  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  kicking  you ;  extremes  meet,  my  boy, 
and  there  was  a  natural  repulsion.  Hough  wants  to 
know  what  a  tramp  is  !  " 

"  How  do  I  know  !  Ah !  here  comes  Smythe  ;  he 
will  tell  you." 

"  Ah,  Smythe,  my  boy,  just  in  time  !  Wasson  don't 
know  any  thing,  and  Cleveland  won't  tell  what  he 
does  know  ;  what's  a  tramp  ?  "  There  now  —  that's 
a  good  fellow  —  don't  open  your  mouth  so  ;  you'll  in- 
jure your  neck,  — just  tell  me  all  you  know  about 
them." 

(9) 


10  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  What's  a  which  ?     Tramp  !  " 

"  Don't  be  a  poll  parrot,  Smythe.  Tell  me  what 
they  are.  You've  been  to  college  and  learned  to  row, 
and  box,  and  play  base  ball,  and  ought  to  know  nearly 
every  thing.  Here  I  am  continually  reading  about 
them.  Every  paper  you  pick  up  is  full  of  them. 
Tramp,  tramp,  TKAMP,  from  one  end  of  the  paper  to 
the  other.  There  is  not  a  chicken  purloined  off  a 
roost ;  a  man  killed ;  a  house  fired  ;  a  train  ditched ; 
virtue  outraged,  vice  embellished,  or  deviltry  of  any 
kind  perpetrated,  but  this  omnipresent  scape-goat  of 
the  nineteenth  century  appears  to  be  at  the  bottom 
of  it  all.  Now  I  want  to  know  what  a  tramp  is." 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  enlighten  you,  Hough, 
but  —  " 

"But,"  exclaimed  Wasson,  interrupting  Smythe, 
"  if  I  am  not  very  much  mistaken,  here  comes  a  gen- 
tleman who  can  !  "  And  as  the  lawn  gate  swung  to 
its  place,  with  a  clang  of  the  latch,  there  appeared 
walking  up  the  gravelled  walk,  a  being,  whose  every 
square  inch  of  superficial  surface  indicated  a  bona  fide, 
unadulterated  specimen  of  the  genus  vagabond. 

A  frock  coat,  —  guiltless  of  buttons,  (save  the  two 
in  the  rear,  where  they  were  of  no  earthly  use)  — 
with  half  a  frock  gone,  and  the  remainder  of  the  gar- 
ment mottled  like  unto  the  celebrated  garment  that 
got  Joseph  in  a  hole,  was  fastened  at  the  neck  with  a 
glittering  horse-shoe  nail.  A  pair  of  pants,  fantasti- 
cally fringed  with  ragged  ends  about  their  extremities, 
higher  up  bore  the  brands  of  many  a  camp-fire.  Their 
original  color  had  long  since  struck  to  the  over-power- 
ing allied  forces  of  wind  and  weather,  mud  and  grease. 


THE  PRODIGAL   AND   THE   WAGER.  11 

In  a  landscape  they  might  have  looked  a  subdjed 
maroon,  etched  with  lampblack.  Below  the  fantastic 
fringe  work  appeared  a  pair  of  feet  encased  in  a  boot 
and  a  shoe.  The  shoe  had  evidently  seen  better  days, 
and  seemed  to  shrink  with  humiliated  pride  from  the 
forced  companionship  of  the  boot,  which  was  a  ple- 
beian of  the  Stogie  family.  The  shoe  was  long,  nar- 
row and  pointed.  The  boot  was  coarse,  thick  and 
stubby.  The  toe  of  the  boot  had  an  air-hole  in  it, 
extending  clean  across  the  upper.  The  shoe  was  in- 
tact, and  had  a  brass  buckle  the  size  of  a  door  plate, 
which  give  it  an  air  of  fallen  greatness.  But  the  boot 
was  in  proud  possession  of  a  heel,  while  the  shoe  had 
none,  equalizing  matters.  In  glaring  contrast  to  this 
tatterdemalion  attire,  the  hat,  that  completed  the 
picture,  was  a  new  straw  affair,  and  looked  like  a 
bright,  fresh,  shingle  roof,  clapped  on  a  very  dilapi- 
dated, old  building.  The  face  beneath  the  hat  was 
round  and  plump,  very  dirty,  quite  keen,  frescoed 
with  tobacco  juice  and  embossed  with  a  short,  stumpy 
beard.  As  the  figure  drew  nigh  the  group  on  the 
lawn,  boot,  shoe,  pants,  coat  and  face  seemed  to  blend 
into  an  animated  object,  while  the  bran  new  hat 
kept  calling  out,  like  a  side-show  man  on  a  fair  ground, 
"  Here  we  are  !  Now  you  have  us  !  An  epitome  of 
Hard  Times !  A  parody  on  financial  acumen !  A 
caricature  on  the  fat  of  the  land  !  What  aint  rags  is 
dirt,  and  what  aint  dirt  is  bugs !  We're  the  remnant 
of  other  days !  We're  the  breaking-up-of-a-hard-win- 
ter !  We're  a  pariah,  a  scavenger,  an  outcast  I 
That's  what  we  are,  and  we  want  you  to  know  it. 
Here's  your  prodigal  for  you  I  Kill  your  fatted  calf 


12  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

of  kitchen  fag-ends  and  serve  up  the  banquet  on  the 
back  door  step.  Bring  out  the  purple  and  fine  linen 
of  your  ragbags.  Here's  your  prodigal,  and  he's 
come  back  hungry  !  " 

But  though  the  hat  said  this,  as  plain  as  a  hat  could, 
the  figure  Jbeneath  the  hat  spoke  quite  differently. 
Having,  with  a  faltering  step  and  a  pronounced  limp 
in  the  shoe  foot,  approached  the  four  gentlemen  who 
were  enjoying  their  after  dinner  cigars  on  the  lawn, 
the  figure  with  a  keen,  swift  glance  took  an  inventory 
of  each  person  before  him,  and  then  pulling  off  the 
new  hat — to  the  great  joy  of  a  lot  of  hair  that  ap- 
peared relieved  from  the  constraints  of  good  society 
—  it  said,  in  a  mumbling  voice  : 

"  Gentlemen,  this  is  the  saddest  moment  of  my 
life.  I  am  no  professional  beggar,  but  the  victim  of 
misfortunes,  and  reduced  from  comfort  to  my  present 
state  of  want  by  calamities  over  which  I  had  no  con- 
trol. If  you  could  give  me  some  assistance  it  would 
be  a  great  blessing  to  me,  and  a  noble  act  for  you ; 
for  I  have  not  had  a  bite  to  eat  for  four  days,  and  my 
clothes  would  drop  off  of  me  with  starvation  if  they 
were  not  falling  off  from  raggedness." 

"  Four  days !  "  exclaimed  all. 

"  Four  days,"  solemnly  reasserted  the  figure. 

"  And  you  still  live !  "  said  Hough. 

"  I  still  live,"  returned  the  figure,  as  solemnly  as 
before,  but  with  a  shrewd,  covert  little  glance  at 
Hough  accompanying  the  answer. 

Wasson  noticed  the  glance,  and  laughed.  Cleve- 
land looked  up  and  the  prodigal  greeted  him  with  a 
benignant  smile.  Smythe  withdrew  his  hands  from 


THE   PRODIGAL  AND   THE  WAGER.  13 

their  repose  in  his  pockets,  and,  with  open  mouth, 
gazed  first  at  the  patrician  shoe,  then  at  the  plebeian 
boot,  then  at  the  subdued,  maroon  colored,  landscape 
pants,  then  at  the  skirtless  coat,  and  at  last  fastened 
his  attention  on  the  fascination  of  the  brilliant,  gal- 
vanized-iron,  horse-shoe  nail. 

"  Are  —  are  you  a  —  TRAMP  ?  " 

"  No,  Sir ! "  emphatically  and  indignantly  replied 
the  prodigal. 

"  Then  we're  lost !  "  exclaimed  all  four,  and  Hough 
continued,  "  Had  you  been  a  tramp  I'd  have  given 
you  a  dollar." 

The  prodigal  looked  surprised  —  a  trifle  suspicious. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  found  his  vagabondage 
quoted  at  a  premium. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  pardon  me  if  my  native 
modesty  prompted  me  to  deny  the  truth.  I  will  con- 
fess that,  having  spent  my  substance  in  assisting  the 
miseries  of  others,  I  am,  through  the  fault  of  my  own 
generosity  and  moral  rectitude,  at  last  brought  to  that 
sad  phase  of  mortal  existence  comprehended  by  the 
name  "  tramp."  I  am  a  tramp  —  and  I  do  not  say  it 
boastingly  —  ;  Heaven  forbid ! "  And  with  a  smile 
of  ineffable  sweetness,  in  which  dirt  and  "  native 
modesty  "  were  harmoniously  blended,  the  prodigal 
meekly  folded  his  hands  and  rolled  his  eyes  sky- 
wards. 

u  Found,  at  last !  "  exclaimed  all. 

The  incidents  of  this  chapter  occurred  one  sunny 
August  afternoon,  on  the  lawn  in  front  of  Smythe's 
summer  cottage  on  Long  Island  Sound,  not  far  from 
the  lovely  little  village  of  Greenwich. 


A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Smythe's  cottage  was  a  pretty  little  piece  of  car- 
penter  work  in  the  Swiss  chatelet  style —  so  delight- 
fully expensive  and  romantic. 

Algernon  Smythe  was  the  son  of  his  father.      A 
clear  understanding  of  this  matter  is  necessary  inas- 
much as  the  ancestral   Smythes   bore   the   name   of 
Smith,  and  the  one  immediately  preceding    Algernon 
had  his  «  Smith "  decorated  with  the  prefix  Josiah. 
Josiah  Smith  drifted  away  from  the  cobble  stones  of 
Connecticut  — where  the  Smith  family  had  long  been 
at  warfare  with  the  rocks  about  the  possession  of  a 
few  acres  of  sterile,  sorrel-trodden,  ground,  — at  an 
early   age,  and  found   his   way  to   New   York   city. 
With  him  came  the  customary  solitary  shilling".     But 
this  Smith  shilling  was  an  inflationist.     It  swelled  it- 
elf  into  houses  and  lots,  and  stocks  and  bonds,  and 
shaved  notes  and  fore-closed  mortgages,  and  fifty  per 
cent,  premiums  on  seven  per  cent  loans,  and  kept  it- 
self so  busily  employed  that  when  Josiah  Smith  re- 
tired from  active  life  and  took  up  a  permanent  resi- 
dence in  Greenwood,  his   only  son   and   heir   found 
himself  sole  master  of  a  million  of  money.     This  was 
too  much  wealth  to  be  comfortably  worn  by  the  name 
of  Smith.     Why,  Algernon  could  remember  when  he 
was  a  little  fellow,  sanding  sugar  and  dusting  spices 
in  his  father's  store,  familiar  little  boys,  —  who  were 
manoeuvring  for  raisins,  —  used  to  affectionately  call 
him  "  SmifTy !  " 

As  a  consequence  when  Algernon  returned  from 
Paris  (Pahree  he  called  it)  he  no  longer  intruded  the 
private  "  i  "  into  the  public  eye,  but  put  a  "  y  "  in 
place  of  it.  Then,  that  his  name  might  be  parted  in 


THE   PRODIGAL   AND   THE   WAGER.  15 

the  middle, — to  match  his  hair,  —  he  tapered  off  the 
"i"-less  creation  with  an  "e";  adopted  a  coat  of 
arms  ;  selected  a  motto  ;  wanted  to  know  if  Connec- 
ticut was  not  somewhere  in  Massachusetts  "  you 
know  "  ;  always  said  brava  !  at  the  opera  ;  and  bought 
him  a  yacht ! 

Of  the  other  guests  at  the  cottage  ;  Mr.  Hough 
was  the  relative  appendage  of  a  City  Savings  Bank. 
He  drew  $3,500  per  annum  from  the  bank  and  sev- 
eral thousand  from  other  sources.  Mr.  Wasson  was 
generally  supposed  to  be  an  artist.  He  was  always 
going  to  have  a  picture  finished  for  the  next  exhibi- 
tion. "  A  thing  that  Church  or  Bierstadt  might  be 
proud  of."  Meanwhile  a  doting  father,  who,  in  a  dis- 
tant Massachusetts  town,  had  first  made  shoes  on  his 
own  knees,  but  now  made  them  on  the  knees  of  some 
five  hundred  of  his  fellow  men,  kindly  furnished  him 
with  a  liberal  means  of  subsistence  until  his  profes- 
sion was  established  on  a  paying  basis. 

Benjamin  Cleveland  was  a  young  fellow,  but  little 
more  than  twenty-three.  His  mother  had  belonged 
to  an  old  Boston  family. 

When  Ben  was  ten  years  old  his  widowed  mother 
died  leaving  him  to  the  tender  care  of  his  uncle,  with 
a  legacy  of  twenty  thousand  dollars.  By  means  of 
this  inheritance  he  had  obtained  liberal  educational 
advantages,  —  attaining  his  majority  shortly  after 
graduating  (without  any  honors)  at  Yale.  (Boston- 
ians  take  honors  at  Harvard.)  After  leaving  college 
he  diligently  applied  himself  to  the  problem  of  life. 
He  had  determined  upon  making  his  mark  in  the 
world.  Nearly  all  young  men  do  so  determine.  Tho 


16  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"mark"  up  to  the  opening  of  this  narrative  was 
neither  a  very  prominent  or  promising  one.  On  his 
twenty-first  birth-day  his  uncle,  who  neither  under- 
stood or  sympathized  with  him,  —  in  fact  rather  dis- 
liked him, — paid  into  Ben's  hands  $15,450,  the  re- 
mainder of  the  legacy  left  by  his  mother,  and  bade 
him  "  God  speed  "  ;  —  a  fashion  some  people  have  of 
shifting  on  to  God's  shoulders  responsibilities  that  be- 
long on  their  own.  For  a  couple  of  years  Ben  en- 
joyed himself  looking  around  among  his  fellow  men, 
and  at  the  age  of  twenty-three  had  $10,400  left  to  his 
bank  account.  He  was  fond  of  good  living,  fond  of 
adventure,  fond  of  sport,  fond  of  being  his  own  mas- 
ter, fond  of  a  congenial  laziness,  and  fond  of  every 
thing  pertaining  to  good  health  save  hum-drum  work, 
and  money  making  by  the  "  plod  "  process.  He  could 
lie  on  his  back  and  build  castles  in  the  air  all  day 
long.  But  it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  have  undertaken 
the  exertion  of  going  twenty  rods  to  get  one  of  the 
foundation  stones  to  commence  one  of  his  castles  with. 
He  was  something  of  a  dreamer.  Not  much  of  a 
doer.  He  ignored  the  past;  enjoyed  the  present; 
neglected  the  future. 

Several  moments  elapsed  in  silence,  while  the  lawn 
party  surveyed  the  rara-avis  before  them.  The  prod- 
igal was  the  first  to  speak.  Extending  his  hand  to- 
ward Hough,  he  suggestively  remarked,  "  Where  are 
you,  boss  ? " 

"  Here  is  your  dollar,"  replied  Hough,  presenting 
him  one ;  "  you  have  earned  it,  my  friend,  by  your 
truthfulness.  Now,  my  friend,  tell  me  what  a  tramp 
is?" 


THE   PPkODIGAL   AND   THE   WAGER.  17 

"  Why,  a  tramp's  a  tramp,"  replied  the  prodigal. 

"  Concise,  if  not  lucid,"  remarked  Wasson. 

44  Yes,  but  what  are  they,  who  are  they,  where  are 
they,  what  do  they  do  and  where  do  they  go  ?  "  per- 
sisted Hough. 

The  prodigal  quietly  picked  a  gravel  stone  out  of 
the  gaping  toe  of  the  boot,  and  answered,  <4  They're 
tramps;  that's  what  they  are.  Dead-brokes;  bums; 
beats  ;  codjers  ;  hand-out  solicitors ;  cross-tie  sailors  ; 
free-lunch  fiends ;  centennial  rangers  ;  square-meal 
crusaders  !  They're  everywhere,  they  do  every  thing, 
and  go  all  over.  They're  the  great  American  travel- 
lers of  the  nineteenth  century.  Explorers.  Pro- 
gressionists. Agrarians.  I'm  one  of  'em  myself,  I 
am!  I'm  just  from  New  Orleans,  and  going  to  Bos- 
ton," and  the  prodigal  stopped  to  request  a  donation 
of  tobacco. 

44  But  where  do  they  live  ?  "  asked  Wasson. 

4;  Great  Blazes !  They  live  where  they  eat !  What 
a  question !  "  And  the  prodigal  completely  annihi- 
lated poor  Wasson  by  rolling  his  eyes  upon  him  in  su- 
preme astonishment. 

44  Yes,  but  what  do  they  eat  ?  You  know  they  must 
eat,  or  they  would  not  live ;  "  and  Srnythe  felt  that 
he  had  cornered  him. 

44  True  for  you  sir.  Well  they  eat  mostly  at  differ- 
ent places.  When  in  New  York  some  of  them  like 
to  stop  at  the  Astor,  and  others  again  prefer  rooming 
in  the  lumber  piles  and  taking  their  meals  at  Delmon- 
ico's.  The  Fifth  Avenue  is  good  enough  for  me 
though  ;  "  and  he  smiled  upon  Smythe,aud  Algernon 
opened  his  eyes  and  mouth  to  their  fullest  extent. 


18  A   TIGHT  SQUEEZE. 

"  Don't  you  ever  work?  Do  you  never  care  to  earn 
money  at  labor?  "  asked  Wasson. 

"  Work  !  Labor  !  Me !  I'm  not  used  to  it,  but  I 
don't  stand  back  from  it  on  that  account.  No  sir.  I 
love  to  work.  Do  you  know  of  any  body  that  wants 
a  hand  to  help  cut  ice,  or  can  strawberries,  or  take  as- 
tronomical observations  ?  If  you  do,  tell  me,  for  I'm 
their  man.  Work  !  I  adore  it ! "  and  his  face  ex- 
pressed his  adoration. 

"  How  long  did  it  take  you  to  come  from  New  Or- 
leans?" asked  Hough. 

The  prodigal  studied  a  moment,  and  then  replied, 
"  I  left  New  Orleans  on  the  20th  of  last  month.  I 
made  St.  Louis  in  eight  days  and  it's  taken  me  two 
weeks  and  a  trifle  more  to  come  from  St.  Louis  here." 

"  Why,  that  is  over  one  hundred  miles  a  day ! 
You're  a  fast  walker,"  said  Hough. 

"  Walk !  Who  said  any  thing  about  walking  ?  Not 
much.  I  walked  when  I  felt  like  it,  and  I  rode  when 
I  felt  like  it." 

"  You  had  money,  then  ?  "  asked  Wasson. 

"Money !  "  exclaimed  he  of  the  maroon  pants,  dis- 
dainfully. "  Money !  Nary  red.  What  did  I  want 
of  money.  Any  fool  can  travel  with  money.  I  beat 
my  way  I  "  and  a  look  of  conscious  pride  illumined  his 
face. 

"  Came  from  New  Orleans  here  in  three  weeks, 
without  any  money ! "  And  the  magnitude  of  the 
undertaking  so  overwhelmed  Mr.  S  my  the  that  he 
viewed  the  tramp  as  a  second  Humboldt. 

"  Step  around  to  the  kitchen  and  tell  them  to  give 
you  something  to  eat." 


THE   PRODIGAL  AND   THE   WAGER. 

"  No,  I'm  obliged  to  you,  stranger.  I  just  had  two 
squares  and  three  hand-outs,  and  I  couldn't  eat  an- 
other morsel.  I'm  sorry,  but  such  is  the  fact,"  re- 
plied the  prodigal  to  the  utter  neglect  of  his  assertion 
that  for  four  days  he  had  not  tasted  food. 

When  Wasson  reminded  him  of  it,  he  coolly  re- 
marked that  it  was  true  enough,  and  arose  from  his 
having  a  terrible  toothache  that  prevented  his  tasting 
any  thing. 

"  I  must  tear  myself  from  you,  gentlemen,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  Time  is  precious,  and  although  I  enjoy 
your  society,  I  must  not  neglect  business.  I'm  much 
obliged  for  the  dollar,  mister.  I'll  spend  it  usefully 
and  judiciously.  Ta,  ta!  "  and  with  a  free  and  easy 
wave  of  his  hand,  the  tramp  turned  and  walked 
jauntily  down  the  gravelled  walk  without  the  slight- 
est sign  of  the  limp  he  entered  with. 

After  his  departure  Hough  broke  out  in  a  boisterous 
fit  of  hilarity. 

"  That's  a  tramp  /  "  he  exclaimed.  "  We  have  seen 
the  elephant,  now,  gentlemen,  what  do  you  think  of 

him?" 

"  What  a  supreme  amount  of  chic!  "  said  Smythe, 
whom,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been  to  Paris. 

"  Grand !  Glorious  !  It's  a  fortune  to  him  ! "  re- 
plied Hough,  feigning  to  be  lost  in  admiration.  And 
Cleveland  said,  meditatively, 

"  Three  thousand  miles  in  three  weeks  without  a 
cent !  By  Jove  !  " 

But  Wasson  rejoined  that  he  did  not  believe  a  word 

of  it. 

"  It  can't  be  done,"  said  Smythe,  positively.  "  No 
man  could  do  it.  I  couldn't  do  it  myself !  " 


20  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"Yes  it  can  be  done,"  cried  Cleveland,  "  whether 
you  could  do  it  or  not.  I  could  do  it." 

"  You  !  " 

"  Yes,  me  !  " 

"  I'd  be  willing  to  give  you  three  months,  and  wa- 
ger that  then  you  could  not.  You'd  starve  to  death 
in  three  days,  and  commence  telegraphing  us  to  come 
and  bring  you  home  before  you  crossed  New  Jersey," 
said  Smythe,  contemptuously  deriding  the  idea  of 
Cleveland's  undertaking  the  feat. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  about  that,  Smythe,"  retorted 
Cleveland,  warming  up.  "  What  man  has  done,  man 
can  do.  If  that  fellow  came  from  New  Orleans  here 
in  a  little  over  three  weeks  without  a  cent,  I  can  go 
from  here  to  New  Orleans  in  the  same  time  on  a  like 
amount  of  money.  I'll  wager  ten  thousand  dollars  I 
can  do  it !  "  And  Mr.  Benjamin  Cleveland  arose  to 
his  feet  and  nodded  his  head  in  an  aggressive  manner, 
though  he  had  not  the  remotest  idea  }ris  challenge 
would  be  accepted,  and  only  made  the  boast  to  sup- 
port his  assertion.  Great  then  was  his  surprise  — 
and  a  surprise  not  imtinctured  with  consternation, 
when  Smythe  quickly  replied,  "  I  take  the  bet. 
Hough,  Wasson,  you  heard  Ben.  It's  a  bargain. 
When  will  you  start,  Cleveland?" 

But  Ben  courageously  backed  Lis  assertion  by 
quickly  replying, 

"  To-morrow !  " 

"  Pshaw !  Cleveland,  don't  make  a  fool  of  your- 
self," spoke  up  Wasson.  "  Even  if  that  fellow  did 
really  do  as  he  says  he  did,  remember,  he  is  a  profes- 
sional tramp,  and  you  would  be  but  a  novice,  at  best. 
You  will  lose  your  money,  sure." 


THE   PRODIGAL   AND   THE  WAGER.  21 

"  I'm  not  urgent  about  the  matter,  only  I  do  not 
like  a  man  to  be  so  positive  about  a  thing  he  knows 
nothing  of.  You  can  draw  the  wager  if  }rou  wish, 
Ben,"  said  S  my  the. 

The  manner  in  which  he  said  it,  however,  nettled 
Ben,  and  though  he  had  made  his  wager  thoughtlessly, 
and  without  a  consideration  of  the  humiliations,  pri- 
vations, and.  hardships  embraced  in  the  proposed  feat, 
he  refused  to  retract. 

"  No,  Smythe.  .  I  don't  take  water.  The  bet  is 
made.  Let  it  stand." 

There  was  a  peculiar  stubbornness  in  Ben's  nature 
that  compelled  him  after  having  made  a  boast  to  carry 
it  out.  Besides,  the  proposition  was  attractive  from 
its  startling  novelty.  It  was  an  excitement  his  na- 
ture craved.  In.  the  quick  communion  of  his  mind 
the  following  thoughts  resolved  themselves  into  argu- 
mentative forces.  "  I'm  a  worthless,  shiftless,  good- 
for-nothing  fellow  anywa}-.  I'm  not  rich  enough  to 
support  the  life  I  would  like  to  lead,  and  I  know  noth- 
ing about  '  mone3r-making.'  I  need  a  good,  practical 
knowledge  of  the  world  more  than  any  thing  else  in 
it.  A  good  shaking  up.  How  to  obtain  it  I  don't 
know.  There  are  undoubtedly  thousands  of  channels 
open,  but  they  are  hidden  from  me.  I  have  $10,400. 
If  I  lose  my  wager,  I  am  young  and  the  world  is  be- 
fore me.  If  I  win,  I'll  have  enough  to  take  me  to 
Europe  and  see  the  sights  for  a  couple  of  years.  At 
all  events,  there  are  none  interested  save  myself.  I 
am  alone  in  the  world  ;  none  dependent  on  me,  I'm 
dependent  on  none.  Responsible  to  no  one  for  my 
acts, — ncne  to  console  a  misfortune —  nor  to  share  a 
triumph.  I'll  go !  " 


22  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

And  go  lie  did. 

By  the  terms  of  the  wager,  duly  drawn  up  that 
evening,  Cleveland  was  to  start  from  the  City  Hall, 
in  New  York  City,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  10th  of  September,  without  money  or  any  thing 
of  value  on  his  person.  In  this  condition  he  was  to 
make  his  way  to  St.  Louis  and  from  there  to  New  Or- 
leans, at  which  last  named  city  he  was  to  arrive,  (and 
make  known  his  arrival  by  a  telegram  from  the  St. 
Charles  Hotel,)  at,  or  before  ten  o'clock,  A.  M.,  City 
Hall  time,  October  the  2d,  making  the  tramp  in 
twenty -one  days  from  New  York,  with  four  hours 
grace  on  the  2d  of  October,  thrown  in  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  Hough,  It  was  further  stipulated  that  at  no 
time  while  performing  the  feat,  should  he  appeal  for 
aid  to  friends,  or  use  the  influences  of  relatives  or 
name,  either  by  reference  or  application,  to  assist  him. 
To  recapitulate  :  —  Benjamin  Cleveland  was  to  make 
his  way  from  New  York  to  New  Orleans,  via  St. 
Louis,  in  three  weeks,  as  a  penniless,  professional 
TRAMP  ! " 


THE    START.  23 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE   START. 

ON  the  10th  of  September,  the  four  friends  had  a 
final  meeting  at  a  sumptuous  little  dinner, 
given  at  the  Fourteenth  Street  Delmonico's,  by 
Smythe.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  party 
broke  up,  with  one  last  toast  to  the  success  of  our 
friend's  undertaking. 

As  the  hands  of  the  City  Hall  clock  pointed  the 
hour  of  six  that  evening,  Smythe,  Hough,  and  Was- 
son,  with  a  number  of  friends  who  had  been  informed 
of  the  wager,  shook  hands  with  Ben  on  the  steps  of 
the  City  Hall  and  bade  him  bon  voyage.  A  min- 
ute after,  when  the  hives  of  the  great  metropolis  were 
turning  loose  their  human  bees,  and  the  streets  were 
swarming  with  released  humanity,  homeward  bound, 
Benjamin  Cleveland  walked  down  Couftlandt  Street, 
with  his  hands  in  his  empty  pockets  —  feeling  as  he 
never  felt  before  in  all  his  life  —  A  TRAMP  !  *  * 

Reader  were  you  ever  "broke  "?  Do  you  remem- 
ber ever  to  have  found  yourself  without  money  and 
without  the  possibility  of  getting  it  ?  If  so,  you  will 
not  surely  have  to  tax  your  memory  to  recall  the  cir- 


24  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

cumstance.  The  feeling  of  utter  helplessness  you 
then  experienced  will  be  indelibly  stamped  on  your 
mind  — fresh  and  green  for  a  life  time.  You  were  in 
the  world,  yet  not  of  it.  You  were  a  part  and  parcel 
of  humanity,  yet  held  nothing  in  common  with  it. 
Your  mind  wandered  from  subject  to  subject,  and  from 
proposition  to  proposition,  in  a  dazed,  uncontrolled 
manner  that  left  your  physical  nature  without  a  guide. 
How  empty  every  thing  seemed.  All  you  met  ap- 
peared to  look  right  into  your  pockets  and  discover 
the  horrible  truth.  The  commonest  mortal  with  a 
home  and  an  occupation  became  a  prince  of  peace  and 
plenty  in  your  eyes.  And  then  the  ever  occurring, 
never  answered,  eternally  harassing  question  that  was 
constantly  forcing  itself  upon  you  in  a  thousand 
shapes,  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  You  truly  felt  how 
small,  petty  and  insignificant  a  thing  man  is  without 
money.  A  nonentity  ;  a  cipher  ;  a  NOTHING  !  A 
shadow  of  existence  —  an  effigy  of  immortality. 
Then  the  desperate  thoughts  that  came  ploughing 
along,  tumbling  over  one  another,  and  frantically  ap- 
pealing to  you,  for  the  action  you  did  not  possess. 
Was  it  not  horrible  !  The  dark  deeds  that  pictured 
themselves  to  you.  The  wild  promptings  to  some  des- 
perate act.  How  you  hated  your  fellow  man.  lie, 
was  not  your  fellow  man!  He  was  a  being  belonging 
to  altogether  a  different  sphere  than  yours.  There 
was  no  fellowship  about  it.  You  were  an  Ishmaelite, 
and  there  was  a  savage  satisfaction  in  feeling  that  all 
the  world  had  its  hand  raised  against  you,  and  yours 
against  all  the  world.  Indeed,  to  tell  the  truth,  you 
were  not  far  from  desperate  deeds.  The  step  from 


THE   START.  25 

poverty  to  crime  is  a  short  one, —  if  poverty,  itself,  be 
not  a  crime.  A  man  without  money  feels  an  owner- 
ship in  every  one  else's  property.  An  ownership 
where  Might  becomes  the  agent  of  Possession.  You 
felt  it.  And  perhaps  it  was  more  a  lack  of  opportun- 
ity than  inclination  that  kept  you  from  becoming  a 
criminal.  Then  do  you  remember  the  vows  you  made, 
"  if  you  could  only  once  get  out  of  this  fix!  "  The 
vices  you  intended  to  shun  ;  the  economy  you  would 
practice  ;  the  practical  and  substantial  sympathy  you 
would  have  for  all  forlorn  mortals  in  your  present  pre- 
dicament? The  virtues  of  industry,  perseverance 
and  prudence  you  would  religiously  follow? 
Bah! 

"  When  the  devil  was  sick,  the  devil  a  saint  would  be. 
When  the  devil  got  well,  the  devil  a  saint  was  he." 

But  perchance  you  have  been  "  broke  "  more  than 
once.  Several  limes  it  may  be.  Vices,  carelessness 
and  a  peculiar  faculty  for  getting  rid  of  money  have 
reduced  you  to  the  predicament  frequently.  It  has 
become  normal.  Do  you  dread  it  ?  No.  It  has  lost 
its  horrors.  You  have  discovered  that  a  man  who 
starves  in  this  country  commits  suicide.  You  have 
also  learned  how  to  let  your  self  respect  have  a  half- 
holiday.  Rags  have  become  familiar  to  you  and  wear 
easily.  You  have  learned  to  ask  that  you  may  re- 
ceive. To  knock  at  the  door  that  the  purse  of  the 
party  within  may  be  opened  unto  you.  And,  withal, 
there  is  a  sort  of  freedom  in  the  situation  that  is 
agreeable.  The  conventionalities  of  society  have  no 
claim  upon  you.  You  are  beholden  to  no  one,  and 
no  one  to  you.  As  free  as  the  winds  to  come  and 


26  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

go,  work  or  play,  sing  or  howl  —  in  fact,  to  do  as  yon 
please  I  Stocks  up  or  stocks  down  —  it  is  all  the 
same.  Banks  may  go  into  liquidation,  and  insurance 
companies  only  insure  a  loss.  What  do  you  care  ? 
The  president  may  go  to  Canada  and  the  cashier  to 
Europe,  and  all  available  funds  go  along  with  them. 
Bah  !  Let  the  galled  jade  wince,  your  withers  are 
unwrung.  They  have  none  of  your  money.  The  woes 
of  others  are  your  diversion.  The  Silver  Bill  a  foot- 
ball in  the  Senate ;  Congressman  Western  Windy's 
anti-tariff  resolution  ;  the  monthly  statement  of  the 
National  debt;  the  four  per  cent,  loan; — you  pass 
them  by  with  supreme  contempt.  If  the  country 
were  placed  on  its  financial  head  tomorrow,  kicking 
its  heels  amid  the  clouds  of  bankruptcy,  it  would  be 
a  matter  of  the  most  delightful  indifference  to  you. 
The  pinnacle  of  your  hopes,  aspirations  and  desirey 
may  be  realized  in  that  ecstatic  moment,  when,  filled 
to  the  chin  at  the  hospitable  hands  of  some  charitable 
housewife,  you  recline  at  ease  on  the  sunny  side  of  a 
plank  and  contemplate  life  through  the  hazy,  somno- 
lent contentment  of  a  full  stomach,  without  a  care  to 
oppress  you ! 

Fortunately,  or  unfortunately,  (as  the  case  may  be 
considered  by  the  reader)  Benjamin  Cleveland  illus- 
trated neither  of  these  phases  of  impecuuiosity  as  he 
walked  down  Courtlandt  Street. 

True,  he  was  moneyless,  —  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life.  But  his  was  a  voluntary  exile  into  poverty, 
and  he  had  the  stimulus  of  an  object.  There  was 
something  to  be  attained  ;  something  to  strive  for ;  — 
an  object  in  life. 


THE   START.  27 

And  a  life  without  an  object  is  death  in  masquer- 
ade. 

One  magical  name  was  constantly  in  his  mind.  The 
name  of  the  goal :  —  New  Orleans. 

What  his  sensations  were  as  he  walked  toward  the 
Jersey  City  Ferry  would  be  hard  to  analyze.  He  felt 
somewhat  sheepish  and  shame-faced.  Every  one  pas- 
sing seemed  to  take  a  personal  interest-  in  him,  and 
say,  "  Ah,  we  know  you.  We  know  what  you  are 
doing.  We  know  you  have  no  money.  You  are  a 
tramp  !  "  He  could  have  sworn  that  such  were  their 
thoughts.  To  be  sure  it  was  all  imagination.  They 
were  all  doing  exactly  as  he  was  —  thinking  of  them- 
selves. The  world  rarely  pays  any  attention  to  you 
unless  you  tread  on  its  toes.  Plunge  your  finger  into 
the  ocean  —  withdraw  it  —  look  for  the  hole  I  The 
ocean  is  the  world  —  the  hole  yourself.  Ben  felt 
queer.  The  central  figure  of  his  thoughts  was  New 
Orleans.  But  the  steps  between  New  York  and  New- 
Orleans  were  many,  and  he  was  but  taking  the  initial 
one. 

While  dreaming  of  the  future  he  suddenly  came 
plump  up  against  the  present  in  the  shape  of  the 
Jersey  City  Ferry  toll  house.  Forgetting  for  the  mo- 
ment the  empty  character  of  his  exchequer,  he  en- 
tered the  gate  and  thrust  his  hand  in  his  pocket  for 
the  requisite  toll. 

The  pocket  was  empty  ! 

Blushing  at  his  forgetfulness,  and  stammering  out 
something  to  the  toll  collector  about  having  left  all 
his  change  at  home,  Ben  retreated  from  the  gate  and 
into  the  street  again. 


28  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

It  was  his  first  check.  The  first  gate  on  his  road. 
And  to  tell  the  truth  he  felt  lost.  Here  was  only  two 
cents  standing  between  himself  and  $20,000  !  Ri- 
diculous !  Nevertheless  a  very  substantial  fact. 

For  half  an  hour  he  loafed  up  and  down  the  piers 
of  the  North  River,  wondering  what  he  should  do. 
Once  it  suggested  itself  to  him  to  go  back  to  his 
friends  and  acknowledge  the  attempt  a  failure.  But 
he  thrust  the  thought  aside  as  cowardly.  Go  he  would, 
though  he  had  to  swim  to  the  opposite  shore,  or  go  up 
to  Albany  and  walk  around  the  river  1 


PROFESSIONAL   ADVICE.  29 


CHAPTER    III. 

PROFESSIONAL   ADVICE. 

WHILE  Ben  reflected  upon  the  majesty  and 
power  of  two  cents,  seated  on  a  check  post, 
he  was  approached  by  a  seedy  individual,  who  had 
been  hovering  in  this  vicinity  eyeing  him  stealthily, 
for  some  time. 

"  Mister,"  said  the  stranger,  "  would  you  be  kind 
enough  to  help  a  man  a  little.  I'm  broke,  and  I'm 
sick.  I  have  a  wife  and  four  children  in  Philadelphia. 
I'm  a  shoemaker  by  trade,  and  if  I  could  once  get 
back  home,  I'd  get  work  ;  and,  on  my  word  and  honor 
I'll  send  you  any  money  you  let  me  have." 

Ben  thought  of  his  own  utter  financial  emptiness 
and  smiled.  The  man  thought  he  doubted  his  integ- 
rity, and  hastily  promised : 

"  I'll  do  it,  so  help  me !  I  had  all  my  money  stolen 
from  me  by  a  man  that  I  befriended,  who  said  he  had 

place  to  stop.     I've  been  trying  for  work  for  two 

eks  and  a  starving  to  death  a  doing  of  it.     I'll  —  " 

"  Hold  on,"  interrupted  Ben,  "  I  am  sorry  for  you 
but  I  have  not  a  single  cent  myself." 

The  man  looked  incredulous. 


30  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  It  is  a  fact,"  continued  Cleveland.  "  I  want  to 
go  to  New  Orleans,  and  here  I  am  stopped  for  want 
of  two  cents  with  which  to  cross  this  ferry." 

"  What,  you  broke  with  all  them  good  clothes  on !  " 
exclaimed  the  shoemaker  in  astonishment. 

Ben  thought  he  was  dressed  very  shabbily,  having 
donned  the  oldest  and  coarsest  suit  he  owned,  but  in 
the  eyes  of  the  dilapidated  shoemaker  he  was,  un- 
doubtedly, arrayed  like  unto  a  lily  of  the  field.  He 
answered  however: 

"  I  tell  you  the  actual  truth,  my  friend.  I  have 
not  one  cent  myself." 

"  Have  you  had  any  thing  to  eat  ?  Are  you  hun- 
gry? "  asked  the  shoemaker,  thrusting  his  hand  into 
a  breast  pocket  and  producing  a  package  of  cold  vict- 
uals wrapped  up  in  a  dirty  piece  of  old  newspaper. 

Ben  looked  surprised  at  this  generosity  on  the  part 
of  one  who  a  moment  before  had  confessed  himself  as 
starving  to  death,  but  refrained  from  expressing  his 
thoughts  as  he  declined  the  proffered  food. 

"You've  got  along  well  for  chuck,  then,  "remarked 
the  shoemaker,  returning  the  package  to  his  pocket. 

Ben  had  a  dim  comprehension  that  "  chuck  "  re- 
ferred to  food,  and  replied  that  he  was  not  hungry, 
adding  the  information  that  he  was  only  recently  be- 
come "  broke  "  and  that  it  was  the  first  time  in  his 
life  such  a  predicament  had  overtaken  him  ;  where- 
upon the  shoemaker  looked  at  him  with  commisera^ 
tion.  Indeed  he  appeared  so  to  sympathize  with  Berr 
that  that  young  gentleman  was  touched,  and  said: 

"  I'm  very  sorry  I  have  not  something  to  give  you, 
for  I  know  how  a  man  in  your  position  must  feel,  hav 


PROFESSIONAL  ADVICE.  31 

ing  a  wife  and  four  children  at  a  distance  and  no 
money  to  leach  them  with."  But  this  was  not  re- 
ceived graciously  by  the  knight  of  St.  Crispin,  who 
looked  at  Ben  suspiciously  and  gruffly  said  : 

"  What  are  }*ou  giving  us ;  — lumps  ?  " 

Ben  was  at  a  loss  for  the  meaning  of  "  lumps  "  but 
answered  pleasantly : 

" 1  was  speaking  of  your  family ;  your  wife  and 
four  children  in  Philadelphia."  This  was  said  so  hon- 
estly that  the  man's  face  cleared  up  in  a  moment,  and 
he  broke  into  a  coarse  laugh. 

"  Philadelphia  be  blowed!  This  town's  too  fat  to 
leave.  Big  free  lunches.  Five  cent  hang  ups.  Best 
town  to  codge  in  you  ever  struck  !  Give  you  a  reg'lar 
sit  down  here.  Philadelphia  you  only  get  a  back  door 
hand  out.  Down  there  they  allus  think  you're  after 
the  spoons  arid  cutlery.  Don't  care  a  durn  what  you 
are  after  here.  All  of  'em  after  sumthin'  themselves. 
All  politicians  here.  Tell  'em  you  belongs  to  the 
Ward.  Find  out  what  ward  you're  in  first.  Give 
you  big  squares.  Sometimes  wealth  —  and  clo'es. 
Give  you  a  copper  cent  in  Philadelphia,  and  make  3^011 
go  before  a  justice  of  the  peace  and  swear  you  won't 
spend  it  for  drink.  Here,  don't  care  a  cuss  what  you 
spend  it  for.  Philadelphia  the  lady  of  the  house 
comes  down  to  see  you  and  ask  questions.  Here,  the 
servant  girl's  boss !  If  she's  Irish,  say  you're  a  Fe- 
nian. If  she's  Dutch,  tell  her  you've  got  a  saiier- 
Waut  wife.  If  she's  a  nigger,  just  tell  her  you're 
hungry.  Go  striking  in  Philadelphia  and  they'll  hand 
you  over  to  the  police.  Strike  a  man  here  and  he's 
white  I  Give  him  a  stiff  on  some  good  trade.  B  ut 


32  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

look  out  you  don't  get  caught  up.  I  struck  a  man 
this  raorniu'  and  give  him  that  I  was  a  blacksmith. 
Thunder !  What  you  suppose !  He  took  me  about 
six  blocks,  up  to  where  he  lived  over  his  own  shop, 
and  give  me  a  big  sit  down.  Then  he  took  me  down 
to  the  shop  and  told  me  he'd  give  me  work  for  the  next 
three  months,  and  wanted  me  to  go  right  to  business ! 
I  pulled  off  my  coat  and  let  on  that  I'd  struck  oil  at 
last,  an'  then,  of  a  sudden,  told  him  I'd  a  keyster 
down  at  a  hang  up  with  a  leather  apron  in  it,  an'  I'd 
have  to  go  after  it.  He  wanted  to  lend  me  an  apron, 
but  I  told  him  I  was  so  used  to  this  one  that  I  could 
not  work  without  it  nohow. 

"You  see  you  must  be  careful  who  you,  strike. 
But  I  s'pects  you're  a  fresh  one.  Now  take  my  ad- 
vice: unless  there's  big  inducements  taking  you  to 
New  Orleans,  don't  you  leave  this  town.  You're  well 
dressed,  an'  you  look  well.  Why,  with  those  togs  on, 
and  that  light  over-Benny  you  can  beat  the  restaur- 
ants and  lunches  for  the  next  twelve  months  !  Tramp- 
ing aint  what  it  used  to  be.  It's  overdone.  There's 
too  many  working  at  the  business.  There's  no  money 
in  it.  You  stay  here." 

Though  Ben  did  not  more  than  half  understand 
what  the  whilom  shoemaker  had  been  saying,  he  nev- 
ertheless realized  that  he  was  conversing  with  a  pro- 
fessional parasite, —  one  of  those  social  excrescences, 
so  many  of  which  are  to  be  found  in  all  large  city 
He  thanked  him,  however,  for  the  kind  interest 
took  in  his  welfare,  but  reiterated  his  determination 
to  go  to  New  Orleans. 

"  Then  go  by  boat.     Beat  your  way  on  a  steamer. 


he 


PROFESSIONAL  ADVICE.  33 

Stow  away,  and  when  they're  off  once  they  can't  land 
you  except  they  run  into  Havana." 

"  But  I  want  to  go  to  St.  Louis  first,"  said  Ben. 

"  St.  Louis  is  a  good  town.  You  hear  me  I  The 
soup  season  aint  commenced  yet.  But  they  set  boss 
free  lunches  !  "  And  the  professional  rolled  his  eyes 
as  he  mentioned  the  delights  of  the  Future  Great 
City. 

.  "  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  information,  I'm 
sure,"  replied  Ben.  "  But  what  troubles  me  just  at 
present  is  to  cross  this  ferry." 

"  To  cross  the  ferry  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Poh  !  That's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world.  Go 
give  'em  a  racket.  Go  to  the  wagon  gate,  I  would. 
The  box  man's  too  busy  to  attend  to  you.  Tell  the 
man  there  you  just  had  your  pocket  picked  and  must 
get  over  in  time  to  catch  the  Elizabeth  train.  Tell 
him  you'll  pay  him  when  you  come  back  in  the  morn- 
ing. Your  clothes  will  carry  you  through."  And  the 
shoemaker  smiled  on  Ben's  wardrobe  approvingly. 

"  Thanks  for  your  advice  ;  but  to  be  frank,  I  had 
rather  not  tell  what  is  not  so." 

The  eyes  of  the  professional  opened  to  their  widest 
extent. 

"  Gosh !  Where'd  you  say  you  were  a  going  ? 
New  Orleans !  Well,  mebbe  you'll  get  there  — 

ebbe  not.     See  here,  was  that  a  stiff  you  was  givin' 

e?" 

Ben  replied  that  he  did  not  fully  comprehend  what 
a  "stiff"  might  be,  but  he  assured  his  interlocutor 
that  he  was  sincere  relative  to  a  due  regard  for  the- 
truth. 


34  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

The  shoemaker  "was  evidently  puzzled.  He  could 
not  understand  the  moral  that  could  prevent  a  man 
from  attaining  a  convenience  within  the  reach  of  a 
lie.  But  his  astonishment  was  tinctured  with  a  re- 
spect for  a  virtue  he  could  not  comprehend. 

"  It's  all  right,  I  s'pose,"  he  remarked,  "  but  it's  too 
funny  for  me.  You're  the  first  man  I  ever  met  that 
wouldn't  tell  whatever  suited  him  to  get  along  easy. 
Why,  look  a  here ;  you  go  up  and  tell  that  gate 
keeper  you're  bust,  and  want  to  go  over.  He'll  laugh 
at  you.  Look  on  you  with  contempt.  Go  tell  him 
you  live  in  Newark,  and  have  just  had  your  pocket 
picked.  He'll  respect  you,  and  treat  you  civilly, 
whether  he  believes  you  or  Hot;  ten  to  one  he'll  let 
you  over.  Lemme  tell  you  somethin'  as  may  be  use- 
ful to  you  on  your  way.  There's  no  premiums  for 
truth,  but  there's  an  everlasting  lot  of  chromos  goes 
with  good  lies.  Now  if  it's  agin  your  conscience  to 
gin  the  gate  keeper  .a  racket,  the  only  other  way  I 
know  for  you  to  get  over  is  to  go  up  the  street  a  piece 
and  jump  a  wagon.  Gin  the  driver  a  good  talk,  and 
get  him  to  take  you.  So  long,  my  friend.  I  wish 
you  luck.  The  band's  about  to  play  over  in  the  Bow- 
ery, an'  jf  I  aint  on  hand  in  time,  some  unprincipled 
vagabond  will  have  my  dress-circle  seat  with  a  lamp- 
post back.  So.  long!"  And  shaking  Ben  by  the 
hand,  the  shoemaker  turned  and  disappeared  up  a 
neighboring  thoroughfare. 

Ignoring  the  professional's  moral  advice,  our  friendW 
proceeded  a  short  distance  from  the  ferry,  and  meet- 
ing a  jovial,  round-faced  Hibernian,  driving  a  dray, 
told  his  desire  to  go  over,  and  the  impecunious  posi- 


PROFESSIONAL   ADVICE.  35 

tion  in  which  he  was  placed.  The  driver  kindly  gave 
him  a  lift,  and  the  gate  was  safely  passed.  On  the 
ferry,  Ben  answered  the  driver's  numerous  inquiries 
as  explicitly  as  he  thought  proper,  and  quite  an  ac- 
quaintance was  struck  between  them.  When  the 
bout  had  deposited  them  on  the  Jersey  City  side  he 
dismounted,  and  after  thanking  the  driver  was  about 
proceeding  on  his  way,  when  the  latter  thrust  out  a 
dirty,  toil  soiled  hand,  and  forced  a  quarter  of  a  dollar 
on  him.  "  It  aint  much,  but  it'll  help  yez  get  a  mouth- 
ful to  eat,"  and  without  waiting  either  protestations 
or  thanks,  the  man  put  whip  to  his  team  and  drove  off. 


36  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

OTJB   HEKO   MEETS   HIS   DESTINY. 

WELL,  it  is  charity,"  said  Ben  to  himself, 
"  but  it  is  acceptable  for  all  that."  He 
then  strolled  up  the  gaslit  street,  — for  it  had  been 
dark  for  some  little  time  —  and  repeatedly  asked  him- 
self what  would  be  the  next  move  in  the  campaign  he 
had  undertaken. 

The  "prodigal"  had  spoken  of  riding  ;  how  was  it 
to  be  done  ?  Should  he  enter  a  train,  take  a  seat  and 
wait  until  the  conductor  put  him  off  ?  He  knew  that 
that  manner  of  proceeding  would  gain  him  but  a  short 
ride.  Perhaps  he  might  tell  the  conductor  a  pathetic 
tale  that  would  so  work  upon  that  individual's  gener- 
osity that  he  would  allow  him  to  continue  on  the 
train.  Alas,  he  knew  the  craft  too  well  to  attempt  so 
futile  an  undertaking.  Not  that  conductors  are  a 
hard-hearted  class  of  persons,  but  their  orders  are 
strict,  and  permitting  a  free  ride  would  subject  them 
to  a  peremptory  discharge.  In  fact  Ben  was  lost. 
At  a  distance  the  simple  matter  of  going  from  place 
to  place  looked  easy  enough  of  accomplishment,  but 
now  that  he  was  brought  face  to  face  with  the  prob- 


OUR   HERO   MEETS   HIS   DESTINY.  37 

lem  its  solution  became  a  difficult  (indeed  he  was 
about  thinking  an  impossible)  task.  What  to  do  or 
where  to  go  he  knew  not.  For  a  time  he  gazed  list- 
lessly into  the  shop  windows,  and  mechanically  strolled 
along.  If  he  could  only  meet  a  tramp,  he  thought, 
he  would  ask  him  how  to  proceed  ;  and  he  kept  a 
sharp  lookout  for  one  of  the  fraternity,  but  none  pre- 
sented themselves.  It  soon  grew  late,  and  the  streets 
lonely.  The  pedestrians  became  fewer  and  fewer,  and 
the  shops,  one  by  one,  put  up  their  shutters.  Ben 
thought  he  had  never  felt  so  lonesome  in  all  his  life  ; 
and  he  was  right.  There  is  no  situation  in  life  more 
lonely,  than  to  be  alone  in  a  great  city  at  night  fall. 
In  the  Avoods  a  man  has  Nature  to  listen  to  and  com- 
mune with.  On  the  prairies  there  are  the  stars  and 
the  night  breeze  for  companions.  But  in  a  metropo- 
lis, a  stranger  among  our  fellow  men,  such  a  wretched, 
helpless  feeling  comes  over  the  traveller  that  his  lone- 
liness seats  itself,  not  only  on  his  mind,  but  on  his 
heart.  This  feeling  was  creeping  with  a  dull,  heavy 
tread  upon  Ben,  and  he  had  already  commenced  to 
anxiously  question  himself  where  lie  should  pass  the 
night  that  was  now  surrounding  him,  when  his  atten- 
tion was  suddenly  aroused  by  a  youthful  voice,  in  a 
dark  side  street,  close  by,  crying  out : 

"  Let  me  alone  !  Let  me  alone,  I  say  !  "  and  then 
a  gentle  female  voice  entreating : 

"  Do  not  strike  the  boy,  Arthur.  Do  not  beat  him. 
He  did  not  mean  to  ;  I  am  sure  he  did  not !  " 

"I'll  teach  you  to  pick  a  pocket,  you  3roung  scoun- 
drel ! "  exclaimed  an  angry  man  ;  and  there  followed 
a  blow,  and  a  cry  of  pain. 


38  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

By  this  time  Ben,  who  had  accelerated  his  step, 
reached  the  scene  of  disturbance,  and  discovered  by 
the  dim  light  that  crept  from  a  street  lamp,  half  a 
block  away,  a  large  man  grasping  a  boy  by  the  arm, 
and  holding  an  uplifted  cane,  that  a  young  lady  was 
striving  to  prevent  again  descending  upon  the  captive. 
The  face  of  the  latter  being  concealed  by  an  old  slouch 
hat  jammed  clown  over  his  eyes. 

In  Ben's  nature  was  a  strong  love  of  justice.  He 
had  ever  been  a  champion  of  the  weak,  and  an  injury 
inflicted  by  a  strong  arm  on  one  incapable  of  resist- 
ance was  an  outrage  on  his  own  sensitiveness,  that 
had  involved  him  in  many  a  rough-and-tumble  while 
a  boy  at  school  and  college.  As  the  man  shook  off 
his  fair  companion's  hand  and  the  cane  was  about 
descending  again  on  the  shrinking  person  of  the  boy, 
he  interposed  his  arm  and  caught  the  blow  upon  it. 

"  Don't  strike  the  boy,  sir.  Please  do  not  hit  him. 
Even  if  he  has  done  wrong  a  beating  will  not  improve 
him."  As  he  thus  expostulated  with  the  man  he  be- 
came conscious  of  a  pair  of  great,  glorious,  grey  eyes, 
that  fairly  glowed  in  the  dark,  looking  gratefully 
upon  him  from  out  the  folds  of  a  snowy  nubia,  and 
a  very  melodious  voice  seconding  his  own  entreaties, 
with : 

"  I'm  sure  you  are  mistaken,  Arthur.  This  gentle- 
man is  right.  Pray  do  not  strike  the  boy  again." 

But  Ben's  observations  reached  no  farther,  for  the 
man  gave  him  a  stinging  blow  across  the  face  with  the 
cane,  exclaiming  fiercely : 

"  Confound  your  impudence,  who  asked  you  to  in- 
terfere ! "  The  next  moment  the  man  lay  at  length 


OUR   HERO   MEETS   HIS   DESTINY.  39 

in  the  gutter,  having  been  sent  there  by  a  powerful 
and  well  directed  blow  with  which,  in  the  heat  of  the 
moment,  Ben  had  resented  the  indignity  received  by 
him. 

The  next  instant  he  repented  such  an  act  in  the 
presence  of  a  lady  and  turned  to  apologize,  when  a 
warning  voice  cried,  "  Look  out !  He  is  armed !  " 
and  lie  saw  that  his  opponent  had  regained  his  feet 
and  was  drawing  a  weapon  from  his  pocket.  What 
the  result  might  have  been,  had  the  man  been  allowed 
to  use  his  revolver,  is  not  difficult  to  surmise.  A  shot 
at  such  close  quarters  would  probably  have  suddenly 
terminated  Ben's  tramp,  had  not  the  boy  who  gave 
the  warning  struck  the  man  on  the  head'  with  a  stone 
before  he  had  an  opportunity  to  use  the  weapon  he 
was  uncovering.  The  blow  was  a  severe  one,  and 
felled  him  senseless  to  the  pavement. 

"  Come,  come !  "  cried  the  boy,  "  Let  us  get  away 
from  here !  " 

But  Ben  would  not  leave  his  fallen  enemy  without 
ascertaining  the  extent  of  his  injuries,  and  he  imme- 
diately offered  his  assistance  to  the  young  lady,  who 
now  stood  beside  her  senseless  escort,  wringing  her 
hands,  and  vainly  imploring  him  to  arise.  He  had 
been  only  stunned,  however,  and  as  Ben  stooped  over 
him  showed  signs  of  returning  consciousness.  At- 
tempting to  rise  to  his  feet,  he  found  himself  still  too 
dazed  from  the  effects  of  the  blow,  and  would  have 
fallen  had  not  Cleveland  supported  him. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  this  should  have  occurred,  Miss, 
but  really  this  gentleman  is  alone  responsible  for  it," 
said  Ben  apologetically. 


40  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  graciously.  "  No  doubt  you  are 
right,  sir.  I  do  not  think  the  boy  intended  any  wrong, 
but  —  but  Arthur  was  ill  tempered  on  account  of 
other  matters,  and  —  allowed  his  anger  to  vent  itself 
on  the  first  object  it  came  across." 

And  Ben  thought  he  noticed,  that,  though  nervous 
from  the  excitement,  she  did  not  appear  to  evince 
much,  sympathy  for  her  companion.  The  latter  soon 
recovered  his  senses  sufficiently  to  keep  his  feet,  and 
supporting  himself  by  the  young  lady's  arm  prepared 
to  leave.  As  he  was  moving  off  he  turned  upon  Ben 
and  said,  with  a  malevolent  scowl :  "  I  will  remember 
you,  sir." 

"  I  trust,  miss,  you  will  pardon  me  for  my  rude- 
ness," said  our  hero,  addressing  the  young  lady  and 
ignoring  her  companion.  "  I  am  very  sorry  for  what 
has  occurred.  Here  is  his  pistol.  I  hope  the  next 
time  he  draws  it,  it  will  be  in  defence  of  a  more 
manly  action  than  striking  one  too  small  to  defend 
himself."  And  he  handed  the  revolver  'to  the  young 
ladj^,  who  received  it  with  a  simple  "  thank  you,  sir." 
Ben  lifted  his  hat  courteously,  and  the  fair  one  re- 
turned a  smile  and  an  inclination  of  her  head ;  and 
the  three  separated. 

Our  friend  stood  watching  the  retreating  figures  of 
the  lady  and  her  escort,  until  they  were  lost  in  the 
darkness,  and  then,  instead  of  resuming  his  walk,  he 
leaned  against  a  neighboring  wall,  while  his  thoughts 
continued  to  follow  the  owner  of  the  great,  glorious, 
gray  eyes  in  the  nubia. 

Unconscious  of  his  surroundings,  his  mind  basked 
in  the  light  of  the  bewildering  glances,  and  his  ears 


OUR   HERO  MEETS   HIS   DESTINY.  41 

danced  to  the  music  of  the  voice  tl/at  had  pro- 
ceeded from  out  the  folds  of  the  snowy  nubia.  Ben 
had  a  large  circle  of  young  lady  acquaintances,  and, 
being  a  fellow  of  culture  and  good  looks,  was  a  favor- 
ite with  the  fair  sex.  Among  them  might  have  been 
numbered  many  attractive  and  polished  misses,  some 
of  whom  had  treated  our  hero  more  than  cordially. 
But  for  all  he  retained  the  same  simple  feeling  of 
friendship,  —  and,  nothing  deeper.  There  was  a  la- 
tent feeling  in  the  young  man's  composition  that  had 
never  been  touched  until  that  evening.  A  wonderful 
change  had  now  come  over  him.  He  felt  that  she  of 
the  nubia  was  a  fragment  (and  a  pretty  large  one)  of 
his  own  existence.  And  it  is  singular,  yet  true,  should 
he  never  again  have  set  eyes  upon  her,  there  would 
have  remained  for  life  a  tender  memory  in  his  heart 
that  nothing  could  have  displaced. 

There  is  many  a  heart,  going  about  this  world  to- 
day, with  just  such  an  uncompleted  vision,  locked  up 
as  a  sacred  secret  within. 

"Pshaw!"  he  said  to  himself,  "we  probably  will 
never  meet  again."  At  the  same  time  there  was  a 
small  voice,  aiding  and  abetting  a  sanguine  hope, 
which  kept  saying  :  "  Yes  you  will,  Ben.  Depend 
upon  it,  you  will,  my  boy !  " 

Happening  to  look  up  from  his  musings,  he  discov- 
ered the  cause  of  the  recent  encounter  standing  a  few 
feet  away,  attentively  observing  him.  The  lad,  find- 
ing his  presence  noticed,  approached  closer  and  said 
in  a  singularly  soft,  pleasant  voice  : 

"  I  thank  you  ever  so  much.  I  chanced  to  run 
against  that  man  in  the  dark,  and  he  called  me  a 


42  A  TIGHT  SQUEEZE. 

4 

thief.     I  called  him  a  liar.     Then  he  struck  me.     I'm 
no  thief!" 

"  Do  you.  know  the  man  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

There  was  considerable  hesitancy  in  the  boy's  man- 
ner as  he  answered :  "  No  —  no  —  I  don't  know  him. 
But  I  will,  if  I  see  him  again,  and  I  won't  forget  that 
he  struck  me,  either." 

"  I  wish  you  knew  him,"  said  Ben. 

"  Why?  "  asked  the  other  in  surprise. 

Ben  blushed  all  to  himself  in  the  dark,  but,  reason- 
ing that  it  was  "  only  a  boy,"  boldly  answered  : 

"  I  should  like  to  know  whom  his  lady  companion 
is." 

"Oh !  Is  that  it! "  and  the  way  he  said  it  sounded 
singular  to  Ben.  "  Well,  I  suppose  you  live  here  and 
will  have  a  chance  to  find  out." 

"  No,  I  do  not  live  here.     I  live  in  New  York." 

"  Going  home  tonight  ?"  inquired  the  lad. 

"  No,"  laughed  Ben.  "  I'm  going  to  St.  Louis  before* 
I  go  home  again." 

"  To  St.  Louis !  I  declare !  There  is  where  I'm 
going  nryself." 

"  Perhaps  we  may  travel  together,"  suggested  Ben, 
laughing. 

"  No  fear  of  that,"  replied  the  other.  "  I  guess  my 
way  of  travelling  wouldn't  suit  you.  I  go  in  a  J*ull- 
man  Palace  box  car,"  and  the  boy  laughed  merrily. 

"  A  what  car  ?  " 

"  A  Pullman  Palace  Box ! "  returned  the  boy. 
"  I'm  going  to  beat  my  way." 

At  last,  thought  Ben,  I  see  a  way  out  of  the 
woods ! 


OUR   HERO  MEETS   HIS   DESTINY.  43 

"  Arc  you  indeed  !  That  is  identically  the  way  T 
am  going  to  travel.  Do  you  think  you  can  get  to  St. 
Louis?" 

"  Get  there  !  "  exclaimed  the  patron  of  the  palace 
box  disdainfully.  "  Get  there  !  Well,  I  should  say, 
I  have  just  made  it  from  Boston  here,  and  I  made 
it  from  Montreal  to  Boston.  I  know  all  the  ropes, 
now ;  —  sure  as  you  live,  I  do.  And  are  you  broke 
too  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cleveland ;  "  and  that  is  not  the 
worst  of  it.  I  never  was  broke  before,  and,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I'm  a  novice  at  beating  my  way,  and  do  not 
know  just  how  to  do  it." 

"  Why,  so  far  as  that  goes,  beating  one's  way  is 
like  any  other  kind  of  work.  It  is  work.  To  be  sure 
it's  not  quite  so  pleasant  as  paying  your  way,  and  3-011 
have  to  put  up  with  a  good  bit,  but  if  you  have  the 
nerve  you  may  rest  assured  that  you  will  get  to  your 
destination  all  right.  As  we  are  going  the  same  way, 
suppose  we  go  together  ?  " 

"  Agreed !  "  said  Ben,  glad  to  have  fallen  in  with 
some  one  posted  in  the  vagabond  life  he  was  about  en- 
tering upon. 

"  Then  we're  pards.  Here's  my  hand  on  it !  "  and 
Ben  grasped  a  warm,  soft  hand  in  his  and  the  com- 
pact was  duly  signed  and  sealed. 

"  Now,  partner,"  said  the  boy,  "  as  you  say  you  are 
new  to  the  business,  let  me  have  the  direction  of  af- 
fairs until  you  get  your  hand  in.  We  will  have  to 
stay  here  for  tonight,  because  the  yards  and  tracks  are 
watched  so  close  that  it  is  next  to  impossible  to  jump  a 
train  going  out  of  here.  But  to-morrow  we  will  foot 


44  A  TIGHT  SQUEEZE. 

it  clown  to  Elizabeth,  and  make  some  side  track  below 
that  town,  and  jump  a  train  in  the  evening.  To-mor- 
row night,  by  this  time,  we  can  make  Philadelphia. 
That  will  be  a  good  time  to  jump  some  coal  flats  and 
get  out  on  the  Central  road." 

"You  speak  as  though  you  had  been  over  the 
route,"  said  Ben  in  admiration  of  the  practical  man- 
ner in  which  his  new  acquaintance  handled  the  sub- 
ject. He  felt  a  great  relief  in  having  found  a  companion 
who  could  tell  him  something  about  travelling  in  the 
new  style,  not  at  that  time  being  aware  of  the  fact 
that  had  he  followed  the  railroad  he  could  have  picked 
up  a  score  of  free  riders  going  in  any  direction  his 
fancy  may  have  desired. 

The  boy,  however,  denied  havii.g  ever  been  over 
the  road  before. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  "  when  you  are  on  a  tramp  you 
learn  to  post  yourself  on  these  matters.  It's  easy 
done  ;  — see  here!  Here's  the  public  arid  employee's 
time-tables  of  all  the  roads  that  come  into  New  York 
City."  And  he  showed  Ben  a  pocket-full  of  railroad 
time-tables.  "  With  these  you  can  keep  posted  just 
how  the  trains  run,  where  there  are  good  jumping 
places,  tanks,  switches,  and  so  on.  All  the  bums 
carry  them.  They  are  their  war  maps.  At  the  next 
convention  the  tramps  ought  to  vote  a  set  of  thanks 
to  the  railroad  companies  for  printing  these  things  for 
them.  But  now  let's  go  to  bed.  Have  you  any 
wealth  ?  " 

"  I  have  just  twenty-five  cents,"  replied  Ben 
acknowledging  the  quarter  given  him  by  the  team- 
ster. 


'OUK   HERO   MEETS   HIS   DESTINY.  45 

"  Good  enough.  Keep  your  money  for  tobacco. 
Are  you  hungry  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  All  right  then.  We  will  get  some  breakfast  be- 
fore we  start  in  the  morning.  Now  let  us  go  to  bed. 
I've  got  the  boss  hangup.  It's  a  shed  in  a  lumber- 
yard. There's  lots  of  nice  clean  boards  in  it.  You 
must  go  quiet,  or  the  watchman  will  see  us  getting  in, 
though,  after  you  get  in  the  shed  he  never  comes 
by  that  way.  Come  on." 

Ben  followed  the  boy  to  a  lumber-yard,  and  having 
scaled  a  padlocked  gate,  they  were  about  to  make  for 
the  shed,  which  was  dimly  discernible  in  the  distance, 
when  the  quick  ear  of  the  lad  detected  footsteps. 
Quietly  he  led  Ben  into  a  recess,  made  by  projecting 
piles  of  lumber,  and  then  the  two  crouched  down, 
awaiting  the  appearance  of  the  person  approaching. 
That  individual  shortly  came  up  in  the  shape  of  a 
man  —  and  a  veiy  ragged  one  —  as  seen  through  the 
starlight.  Behind  him  limped  a  comrade  carrying  a 
small  bundle.  They  were  outside  of  the  fence,  and 
halted  when  they  arrived  at  the  gate. 

"  Let's  get  in  here,  Billy,"  said  the  foremost  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  Oh,  thunder,  Peters !  My  foot's  too  sore  to  climb 
that  there  fence,  and  if  a  dog  got  after  us  on  the  other 
side,  I'd  be  gone  up.  Let's  go  to  the  Station-house 
and  have  a  good  night's  rest." 

"  I  tell  you  I  aint  agoing  to  the  police  station,  like 
a  slouch,"  replied  he  addressed  as  Peters. 

"  Oh,  you're  so  durned  high  toned  !  "  muttered 
*  Billy.'  '"  There's  as  good  men  goes  to  the  station  as 


46  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

you  be,  and  if  you  get  over  into  that  yard  somebody 
may  .catch,  you  and  hand  you  over,  and  then  you'd  go 
up  for  a  vag  for  sixty  days,  mebbe.  I  wish  we'd  a 
camped  out  in  the  country  and  not  come  in  town  to- 
night." 

"  We  had  to  come  in  to  get  some  snipes.  You  said 
you  was  a  dying  for  a  smoke.  Come  now,  and  shin 
over."  And  '  Peters  '  commenced  scaling  the  gate, 
when  Ben's  companion  called  out : 

"  Get  away  from  this  yard,  you  scoundrels,  or  I'll 
give  you  over ! " 

A  sudden  fall  from  the  gate,  was  followed  by  a 
hasty  shuffling  of  feet,  and  the  boy  said  to  Ben : 

"  All  right,  now.  We  have  got  rid  of  them.  This 
is  my  hangup,  for  I  discovered  it,  and  I  don't  want 
any  more  lodgers.  Come  on." 

When  they  were  safely  stowed  away  on  the  plank? 
under  the  shed,  Ben  asked  : 

"  Were  those  tramps  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other ;  "  peach-plucks,  I  s'pose. 
The  country's  full  of  them." 

"  What  are  '  peach-plucks'  ?" 

"  Fellows  that  tramp  up  and  down  Delaware  and 
Jersey  during  the  peach  season.  They  get  work  at 
from  fifty  cents  to  a  dollar  a  day,  picking  peaches. 
Sleep  out  on  the  ground  and  live  on  corn-dodgers  and 
sow-belly.  It's  a  star  time  with  the  bums,  and  I  sup- 
pose there's  five  thousand  or  more  of  them  ramble 
through  the  peach  country.  You  see  work  aint 
heavy  and  they  can  have  all  the  peaches  to  eat  they 
want." 

"  But  I  should  think  that  even  at  those  small  wages 


OUR   HERO   MEETS   HIS   DESTINY.  47 

they  might  earn  enough  to  keep  them  until  they  found 
better  employment,"  said  Ben. 

"  They're  not  after  employment ;  they're  out  for  an 
airing,  and  only  work  two  or  three  days  at  a  time. 
After  the  peaches  play  out,  lots  of  'em  strike  off 
through  the  country  for  the  Wisconsin  hop  yards,  where 
men  and  women  pick  in  the  fields  together,  and  dance 
all  night.  It  is  the  life  they  like.  Money's  no  ob- 
ject. Let  us  go  to  sleep  so  that  we  can  get  up  early." 
And  he  lay  down  at  full  length  on  the  boards  as 
though  they  were  a  bed  of  down.  Ben  followed  his 
example  ;  but  the  strangeness  of  his  new  position  kept 
him  long  awake,  thinking  thoughts  that  had  never 
before  visited  his  mind.  Once  he  gave  his  companion 
a  gentle  push,  and  asked : 

"  Boy,  what  is  your  name  ? " 

"  Tommy." 

"  Tommy,  what  are  '  snipes '  ?  " 

"  Cigar  butts !  "  and  Tommy  laughed  a  sleepy  little 
laugh,  and  was  soon  thereafter  snoring. 

Then  came  the  sweet  angel  Sleep,  and  wrapped  his 
arms  around  city  and  woodland,  palace  and  hovel,  po- 
lice station  and  lumber  pile,  and  took  his  weary  de- 
votees off  on  a  tour  through  dreamland. 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Ben  awoke  shiv- 
ering with  cold.  The  damp  night  air,  warm  enough 
in  the  early  evening,  had  chilled  and  aroused  him. 
II is  restlessness  startled  Tommy  who  enquired  what 
the  matter  was. 

"  Ah,  you  were  not  tired  enough  to  sleep  sound." 
And  then  Tommy  showed  him  how  to  make  a  blanket 
of  hi.s  cout  and  vest,  by  covering  up  his  head  with  the 


48  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

coat  and  rolling  the  other  up  on  the  breezy  side  of 
him,  and  in  a  few  moments  Ben  felt  himself  quite 
warm,  and  again  dozed  off. 

That  trick  of  making  a  blanket  out  of  his  coat  and 
covering  up  his  head  so  as  to  retain  all  the  heat  of 
respiration  was  a  valuable  one  that  he  often  thereafter 
made  use  of. 


OUB  HEBO  EATS  THE  BREAD  OF  CHARITY.   49 


CHAPTER  V. 

OUB  HEBO  EATS  THE  BBEAD  OF  CHABITY. 

BRIGHT  and  early,  on  the  following  morning,  our 
two  tramps  deserted  the  lumber  yard,  and 
having  found  a  pump,  both  performed  their  morning 
ablutions ;  Ben  feeling  a  trifle  stiff  in  tne  neighbor- 
hood of  the  spots  where  his  bed  rubbed  him  the  heav- 
iest. But  relying  on  Tommy's  assertion  that  he  would 
soon  view  a  clean  plank  as  a  positive  luxury,  he  made 
no  complaints. 

"  And  now  for  breakfast !  "  said  Tom.  "  Then  we 
will  start." 

Never  before  had  this  matter  of  breakfast  appeared 
of  such  magnitude  to  Ben.  It  was  as  natural  for  him 
to  eat  breakfast  of  a  morning  as  to  exist.  It  is  so 
with  thousands  of  good  people.  And  yet  there  are 
many  persons  in  the  world  who  are  ofttimes  compelled 
to  look  upon  a  matutinal  meal  as  an  unattainable  lux- 
ury, and  respect  it  accordingly. 

Tommy's  cheerful  invitation  was  somewhat  reas- 
suring, however.  The  two  walked  on  in  silence  un- 
til they  were  well  out  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  when 
the  boy  turning  to  Ben,  said  : 


50  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  This  will  do.  Now  you  are  hungry,  I'll  war- 
rant." 

He  did  not  deny  the  soft  impeachment.  Indeed 
his  well  regulated  interior  had  clamored  loudly  the 
previous  evening  at  the  enforced  fast  imposed  upon 
it,  and  was  now  sternly  calling  upon  its  provider  to 
do  his  duty,  and  his  whole  duty,  like  a  man. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  instructed  Tommy.  "  You  are 
young  at  cadjing  and  I  will  have  to  give  you  some 
points." 

Ben  not  only  gave  an  attentive  ear  but  he  took  a 
good  look  at  his  companion  in  the  broad  daylight. 
The  boy  might  have  been  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of 
age  ;  a  round,  plump  little  fellow,  with  a  merry  face, 
and  sparkling,  hazel  eyes  shaded  by  long,  black  lashes. 
There  was  something  girlish  in  his  cheek,  it  was  so 
round,  and  smooth,  and  rosy,  without  the  slightest 
sign  of  those  capillary  advantages  that  manhood's 
prime  was  to  decorate  it  with.  An  'ungovernable 
mass  of  curly  black  hair  straggled  from  under  a  well 
worn  slouch  hat  that  had  bronzed  beneath  sun  and 
storm,  and  become  limp  and  shapeless  in  its  career  of 
pillow  and  basket.  "When  Tommy  spoke  his  voice 
had  a  clear,  silvery  ring,  quite  pleasant  to  the  ear ; 
and  when  he  laughed  he  showed  a  dazzling  set  of 
teeth.  Such  was  Ben's  new  companion.  He  looked 
as  though  he  might  be  a  good  boy  who  would  do  many 
a  bad  trick. 

"Listen,"  he  said.  "  We  must  get  breakfast  right 
off.  You  take  that  side  of  the  street,  and  111  take 
this.  Go  to  the  back  doors  and  tell  them  any  sort  of 
a  tale  that  comes  handy  ;  only  don't  forget  to  say, 


OUR  HERO  EATS  THE  BREAD  OF  CHARITY.  51 

every  time,  that  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  ever 
had  to  ask  for  such  a  thing  in  your  life,  and  that  you 
scorn  to  accept  it  as  a  charity,  but  want  to  earn  what 
you  eat,  and  you  would  like  to  saw  wood  enough  for 
your  breakfast.  But  before  you  knock  be  sure  you 
look  around  and  see  that  they  use  coal.  We  have  no 
tim^  to  fool  away  manufacturing  firewood.  Now  go 
on,  and  we  will  meet  down  at  the  corner  of  the  next 
block  ;  the  one  that  gets  there  first,  to  wait  for  the 
other." 

Of  all  forlorn  mortals,  Benjamin  Cleveland  felt  at 
that  moment  the  most  folorn.  He  could  have  charged 
a  battery,  where  there  was  no  chance  of  coming  back 
alive,  cheerfully.  Ha  could  have  ventured  any  des- 
perate deed  that  required  mere  physical  courage  ;  but 
to  go  into  a  house  and  beg  for  something  to  eat,  —  lie 
could  not !  His  heart  jumped  to  his  throat  with  all 
the  nervous  energy  that  attends  physical  fear  in  men 
differently  constituted  from  our  hero.  Gate  after 
gate  was  passed,  he  persuading  and  promising  himself 
that  the  next  one  should  surely  be  entered.  Once  he 
did  stop  with  his  hand  on  a  latch,  but  chancing  to  look 
up  at  the  house  he  saw  a  little  boy  eyeing  him  from 
an  upper  window,  and  retreated  completely  van- 
quished. It  required  all  his  stubborness  and  constant 
thoughts  of  New  Orleans  to  prevent  his  giving  up 
the  projected  "  tramp  "  there  and  then,  and  acknowl- 
edging himself  a  failure.  What  was  $20,000  to  such 
humiliation ! 

But  another  course  of  reasoning  came  to  his  aid  : 
"  You  call  it  pride,  Ben ;  but  are  mistaken.  It's  lack 
of  nerve,  my  boy,"  said  this  new  logician.  u  There 


52  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

is  as  much  nerve  required  in  facing  humiliations  as 
there  is  in  facing  a  batteYy.  More,  sometimes.  Phys- 
ically brave  men  are  plentiful.  It  is  mental  bravery 
that  is  lacking  in  you  and  thousands  of  others.  To 
be  sure  it  is  low.  It  is  humiliating.  It  is  fagging. 
You  will  be  a  beggar.  But  you  have  an  object  to  at- 
tain, and  it  can  only  be  attained  the  one  way.  It  is 
either  do  it,  or  surrender  !  " 

This  sophistry  at  last  wrought  so  upon  him  that 
closing  his  eyes  upon  all  surroundings,  he  made  a 
blind  dash  "at  a  gate,  and  without  allowing  himself 
time  to  think  hurried  around  to  the  mansion's  back 
door,  at  which  he  was  actually  knocking  before  he 
fully  understood  himself,  and  without  once  remember- 
ing Tommy's  injunction  to  be  careful  and  satisfy  him- 
self that  there  was  no  obnoxious  woodpile  in  the  vi- 
cinity. 

A  man  answered  his  knock,  and  all  his  courage  im- 
mediately oozed  out.  If  it  had  only  'been  a  woman, 
he  thought,  it  would  have  been  different.  -But  how 
could  he  ask  a  man  for  something  to  eat !  He  could 
not,  and  he  did  not,  but  stammering  out  some  irrele- 
vant inquiry  about  an  imaginary  Mr.  Brown,  he  blushed 
and  looked  decidedly  sheepish.  The  man,  eyeing 
him  suspiciously,  replied  that  no  Mr.  Brown  lived 
there,  or  in  that  neighborhood,  and  shut  the  door  in 
his  face. 

Poor  Ben  made  his  way  to  the  sidewalk  feeling 
smaller  than  ever  in  his  life.  Truly  if  the  $20,000  is 
to  be  earned  at  this  price  it  will  be  dear  enough  ;  and 
he  had  not  the  heart  to  make  another  back  door  ap- 
peal, but  walked  to  the  appointed  rendezvous,  and 
there  awaited  Tommy. 


OTJK   HERO   EATS   THE   BHEAD  OF  CHAKITY.      53 

That  young  gentleman  shortly  appeared,  smacking 
his  lips,  and  looking  as  well  fed  and  contented  as  pos- 
sible. 

"  I  had  a  splendid  breakfast !  Mutton  chops,  hot 
waffles,  fried  potatoes,  scrambled  eggs,  coffee, —oh 
my  eye,  such  coffee  !  Three  cups  of  it !  Oh!  "  and 
Tommy,  his  vocabulary  unable  to  furnish  him  with 
adjectives  to  do  full  justice  to  the  merits  of  the  coffee, 
rolled  his  eyes  instead,  little  knowing  the  misery  his 
bill  of  fare  was  giving  poor  empty  stomached  Ben. 

"What  did  you  have,  partner?" 

Ben  very  truthfully  remarked  that  he  had  had  a 
light  breakfast,  indeed  not  much  of  anything  to  speak 
of. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  into  another  house  and 
keep  agoing  until  you're  full  ?  "  asked  Tommy.  "  Go 
back  where  I  was  and  tell  them  I  sent  you.  There's 
lots  left." 

But  this  proposition  was  viewed  unfavorably  by 
Mr.  Cleveland,  who  remarked  that  he  was  not  very 
hungry,  (which  was  false)  and  that  he  would  purchase 
a  nickel's  worth  of  crackers,  which  would  fill  him  to 
repletion. 

"  Do  as  you  please,"  replied  his  companion,  but  I 
advise  you  not  to  spend  your  money  foolishly.  You 
can  get  all  the  chuck  you  want,  by  asking  for  it,  and 
can  save  your  money  for  newspapers  and  tobacco  — 
and  (reflectively)  hair  grease." 

Ben  persisted  in  the  extravagance  of  a  nickel's 
worth  of  crackers,  however,  and  when  he  had  eaten 
them,  felt  much  better.  He  also  purchased  a  dime's 
worth  of  tobacco,  some  of  which -he  offered  Tommy, 
who  refused  the  weed. 


A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

The  two  now  took  to  the  railroad,  and  late  in  the 
afternoon  made  a  water  tank  and  side  track  below 
Elizabeth,  where  the  time  table  "For  employees 
only,"  informed  them  many  trains  would  stop  to  wa- 
ter and  pass,  during  the  night. 

On  the  walk  down  the  track,  Tommy  had  made  nu- 
merous excursions  to  houses  along  the  lines  for  "  hand 
outs."     He  met  with  much  success  and  nearly  always 
returned   with   something.     Sometimes   with   bread, 
sometimes  bread  and  meat,  and  once  a  lot  of  soft  rice 
pudding,  carefully  conveyed  in  his  hat ;  all  of  which 
he  shared  with  Ben,  and  when  they  had  more  than 
they  needed,  gave  to  other  tramps  whom  they  met. 
They  passed  several  of  these  gentry  on  their  way  north- 
east.    At  such  a  meeting,  all  hands  would  squat  on  the 
rails  and  a  long  confab  ensue.     There  were  two  ques- 
tions  always   asked  by   those '  they  met.     One  was, 
"  How's  '  times '  where  you  fellows  come  from  ?  "  and 
the  other,  "  How's  grub  on  the  road  ?  "  ,  All  of  them 
professed  to  be  in  search  of  work  ;  which,  no  doubt, 
the  majority  honestly  were,  but  work  is  at  present  a 
very  scarce  article  in  the  United  States. 

These  tramps  either  preferred  walking,  or  had  been 
recently  "  bounced  "  from  trains  on  which  they  were 
stealing  rides.  Hardly  any  took  to  the  country  roads, 

—  save  it  might  have  been  in  the  vicinity  of  a  town, 

—  much  preferring   the   railroads,   from   which   fact 
they  have  derived  the  sobriquet  of  "cross-tie  sailors." 
Once  while  Ben  was  sitting  on  a  pile  of  ties,  awaiting 
Tommy's  return  from  a  foray  into  a  neighboring  farm 
house,  he  heard  his  name  called,  and  looking  in  the 
direction  of  the  house  saw  Tom  vigorously  beckonino- 


DUE,  HERO  EATS  THE  BREAD  OF  CHARITY.   55 

him.  A  plump,  kind  faced,  motherly  housewife  gave 
him  a  pleasant  greeting,  and  on  a  bench  he  saw  spread 
an  appetizing  banquet  of  bread,  butter,  milk  and  ap- 
ple sauce,  to  which  his  little  friend  was  energetically 
devoting  himself.  Ben  needed  no  persuasion  to  fol- 
low his  example ;  the  good  dame,-  meanwhile,  stand- 
ing by,  and  condoling  with  them. 

"  I  have  a  son  at  sea,  myself,"  said  she,  "  and  Heaven 
watch  over  my  dear  boy !  I  know  not  when  the  fierce 
winds  may  shipwreck  him  among  strangers.  God, 
forbid,  though.  You,  young  men,  should  be  thankful 
that  it  is  no  worse.  And  don't  forget  to  thank  Him 
who  did  it  for  extending  his  protecting  hand  to  you." 

This  was  all  not  quite  so  lucid  as  Greek  to  Ben, 
who  judiciously  replied  in  monosylables,  as  he  de- 
voured the  food.  On  leaving,  their  kind  hostess  pre- 
sented them  with  a  large  package  of  bread  and  ham. 

When  they  regained  the  truck,  Tommy  explained 
that  he  had  given  the  good  lady  "  quite  a  racket." 
The  "  racket "  proved  to  be  a  pathetic  tale  of  ship- 
wreck in  which  the  two  tramps  had  taken  a  prominent 
part,  having  recently  landed  destitute  in  New  York 
City,  from  thence  they  were  making  their  way  on  foot 
to  their  homes  in  Baltimore.  While  Ben  could  not 
indorse  the  moral  laxity  embraced  in  the  "racket," 
he  nevertheless  admired  the  milk  and  apple  sauce. 
The  bread  and  ham  made  them  a  hearty  supper  that 
afternoon,  when  they  had  taken  to  the  seclusion  of  a 
small  grove  near  the  tank  and  side  track.  After  their 
repast,  Ben  was  about  to  remove  his  boots  ;  for  his 
feet  were  tired  and  badly  chafed.  Tommy  advised 
him  not  to,  stating  that  it  would  be  better  to  let  his 


56  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

feet  "get  used  to  it,"  and  that  they  would  "harden 
quicker  "  by  allowing  his  boots  to  remain  on.  He  took 
them  off,  though,  and  both  lay  down  for  a  nap  to 
strengthen  them  for  the  night's  work. 

They  were  soon  asleep.  Our  hero  dreamed  of  New 
Orleans  and  its  glories.  Of  bread  and  milk,  a  moth- 
erly woman  and  a  gruff  man.  Of  gates  that  would 
not  open,  pull  them  ever  so  hard  ;  and  doors  that  he 
battered  his  knuckles  to  pieces  on  without  there  being 
a  response.  But  most  he  dreamed  of  a  pair  of  great, 
glorious,  grey  etyes,  that,  indeed,  had  occupied  his  re- 
flections the  major  portion  of  the  day. 

If  Tommy's  face  indicated  the  thoughts  passing 
through  his  mind,  his  dreams  were  far  from  pleasant. 
He  gritted  his  teeth,  and  clenched  his  hands,  and 
muttered  hoarsely  as  he  tossed  about.  Gradually  he 
rolled  over  on  to  Ben's  outstretched  arm.  And  the 
arm  unconsciously  closed  around  him  and  drew  him 
to  Ben's  bosom,  on  which  pillowing  his  fyead,  the  boy 
slept  soundly. 


UNDER  THE   CYCLOPEAN   EYE.  57 


CHAPTER    VI. 

UNDER   THE   CYCLOPEAN  EYE. 

BEN  had  just  knocked  at  a  back  door  and  a  man 
was  threatening  to  set  the  dogs  on  him  if  he 
did  not  take  himself  off,  and  he  was  in  the  midst  of 
eloquent  protest,  that  he  was  no  tramp  and  was  not 
doing  this  thing  from  necessity,  when  Tommy  awoke 
him,  and  he  started  up  with  his  protest  but  half  ut- 
tered, to  find  the  night  air  quite  chilly,  and  countless 
stars  in  the.  coverlet  of  Earth  winking  and  blink- 
ing at  him  in  a  most  familiar  manner. 

"  Get  up,"  said  Tommy.  "  It  is  ten  o'clock  !  If 
you  sleep  that  way  much  longer  you  will  talk  yourself 
to  death." 

"  Have  I  been  talking  in  my  sleep  ?  "  he  asked  sit- 
ting up  with  a  yawn. 

"  I  should  say  so,  indeed,"  replied  Tom.  "  I've 
been  listening  to  you  for  the  past  half  an  hour."  He 
did  not  further  state  that  during  the  half  hour  he  had 
bent,  like  a  timid  girl,  over  Ben  and  kissed  him  on 
cheek  and  forehead  —  but  not  on  the  lips.  But  such 
was  the  fact. 

"  Come,  it's  ten  o'clock  and  the  freight  is  about  due," 
said  he. 


58  A   TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 

"  How  do  you  know  what  time  it  is  ?  " 

"  By  my  watch,  of  course.     How  else  ?  " 

"  Have  you  a  watch  ?  "  asked  Ben,  in  surprise. 

"  To  be  sure.  A  splendid  time  piece.  Been  run- 
ning these  thousands  of  years,  and  never  yet  needed 
repairing.  There  it  is,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  Heav- 
ens. 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  Why  up  there  —  the  Big  Dipper !  You  can  tell 
time  by  the  handle  of  it.  Now  you  have  learned 
something.  Get  up  !  " 

Again  on  his  feet  he  found  himself  quite  stiff.  It 
appeared  to  him  as  though  all  of  his  joints  were  sol- 
dered together. 

"  Oh  you  will  soon 'get  used  to  that,"  consolingly 
reflected  Tommy.  "  Bump  your  back  against  a  tree 
and  that  will  shake  you  limber.  Hi !  Here  she 
comes  !  Now  for  it !  Hurry  up  !  "  And  in  the  dis- 
tance was  seen  the  great  Cyclopean  eye  of  a  locomo- 
tive, and  the  rumble  of  the  approaching  train  filled 
the  air. 

"  Hold  on  Tom !  I  can't  get  on  my  boots,"  ex- 
claimed Ben,  striving  to  force  his  swollen  feet  into 
them. 

"  We  can't  wait,  Ben.  Come  on  in  your  stockings. 
Carry  your  boots  in  your  hand.  Hurry  up !  Here 
she  is !  " 

Thus  urged  he  limped  over  the  rough  ground  with 
his  boots  in  his  hand. 

•'Not  this  side,"  said  Tommy.  "Take  the  other 
side  of  the  track ;  they'll  see  us  here.  Come,  look 
sharp  and  get  over  before  the  headlight  discovers  us." 


UNDER   THE    CYCLOPEAN   EYE.  f>9 

Ben  hobbled  over  the  track  and  both  crouched  down 
behind  a  pile  of  old  rails  on  the  opposite  side  from 
the  tank.  While  cowering  there  the  train  drew  up 
with  a  rush,  and  a  roar,  and  a  screeching  of  brakes, 
and  stopped  to  fill  its  own  tank. 

Scarce  had  it  come  to  a  standstill  when  three  fig- 
ures glided  like  shadows  from  among  the  cars,  and 
swiftly  ran  and  hid  behind  the  pile  of  rails  where  our 
friends  were  crouching.  One  of  them  observing  them 
asked,  in  a  hoarse  whisper  : 

"  Goin'  to  jump  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  whispered  Tom  in  reply.  •"  What's  the 
show?" 

"  None  at  all,"  returned  the  other.  "  She's  a  loaded 
train.  Every  box  locked.  We've  been  making  it 
on  the  drawheads  from  Newark.  That's  your  only 
show." 

Tom  uttered  an  exclamation  of  disappointment. 

"  Ben,  can  you  ride  bumpers  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.     What  are  they  ?  " 

"  Bumpers.  Drawheads.  The  coupling  between 
the  cars.  Here's  three  beats  riding  drawheads  and 
they  say  it's  our  only  show.  If  you.  think  you  can, 
we  will  try  it." 

Our  hero  answered  that  he  had  no  experience  in  the 
business,  but  was  willing  to  make  the  attempt. 

"  It's  death,  to  fall,"  said  Tommy ;  and  then  the 
boy  cogitated  a  moment,  and  whispered : 

"  It  won't  do.  You  couldn't  do  it.  Not  in  your 
stocking  feet  anyway.  We'll  have  to  let  this  train 
go." 

At  this  time  the  whistle  sounded  "  off  brakes,"  and 


60  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

the  engine  wheels  began  to  revolve.  As  the  train  got 
under  headway,  the  three  figures  stealthily  stole  forth, 
and  plunging  between  the  cars,  the  long  screeching, 
grinding  chain  of  wheels,  appear  to  roll  over  them 
and  grind  them  out  of  existence. 

Not  so,  however.  As  the  train  sped  away,  each  of 
the  three  was  dangling  on  that  narrow,  precarious, 
bumping,  jerking  little  platform,  made  by  the  links 
and  connecting  drawheads  of  the  cars.  A  most  dan- 
gerous place  truly,  and  many  a  tramp  has  left  them 
for  Eternity.  A  jolt !  The  foot  slips !  A  yell ! 
And  all  is  over.  The  tramp  is  finished. 

But  Ben  discovered  before  he  reached  New  Orleans 
that  the  bumpers  were  not  the  most  dangerous  place 
about  a  train  on  which  men  attempted  to  steal  rides. 
When  no  other  opportunity  offers,  as  in  the  case  of  a 
passenger  train  sometimes,  the  trucks  beneath  the 
cars  are  improved,  where  with  a  constant  roar  in  their 
ears,  a  storm  of  dust  and  gravel  in  their  faces,  and 
a  cramped  position  —  like  a  contortionist  in  his  box 
among  the  bottles  —  these  knights  of  vagabondage 
cling  on  like  squirrels. 

Sometimes  there  is  an  extra  heavy  jolt,  or  a  larger 
stone  than  usual  strikes  them  on  the  head.  In  such 
cases  the  coroner's  jury  discover  that  the  man  was  a 
tramp  and  came  to  his  death  by  being  run  over  by 
the  cars.  What  would  we  do  without  coroner's  ju- 
ries? 

Tommy  watched  the  retreating  train  for  some  time, 
and  then  said  to  Ben  : 

"  Never  mind ;  better  luck  next  time.  I  don't  think 
you  could  have  made  it  on  the  bumpers.  Here's  my 


UNDER   THE   CYCLOPEAN  EYE.  61 

knife.  Cut  your  boots  so  that  you  can  get  them  on. 
The  lightning  express  will  be  along  soon,  and  we  can 
make  fifty  or  sixty  miles  on  it.  If  the  express  car 
has  an  open  end,  by  thunder,  we'll  jump  the  pilot !  " 

"  What  did  those  men  get  off  for  ?''  asked  Ben. 

"  Why,"  explained  Tom,  "  when  the  train  stops, 
they  take  to  cover  so  that  the  train  men  will  not  see 
them." 

"  There  were  three  making  their  way  on  that 
train." 

"  Hard  telling,"  replied  Tom.  "  There  may  have 
been  a  dozen ;  on  the  trucks,  and  bumpers,  and  hang- 
ing on  the  ladders ;  besides  some  that  may  have 
forced  an  end  gate  and  locked  themselves  in  a  box. 
When  I  was  at  Albany,  there  came  in  a  train  from 
the  west  and  I  heard  the  conductor  boast  that  he'd 
made  one  trip  without  a  deadhead.  Well,  Ben,  when 
they  came  to  open  one  of  the  cars  that  had  wheat  in 
it  they  found  a  man  inside  dead  as  a  herring.  He  had 
forced  the  end  gate  and  then  nailed  himself  in,  and  1 
expect  the  dust  or  something  smothered  him  before 
he  could  get  it  open  for  fresh  air." 

"  That  was  a  deadhead,  sure  enough.  Did  they 
find  out  who  he  was  ?"  asked  Ben. 

"  Bless  you,  no.  What  does  any  one  care  about  a 
dead  tramp.  I  was  in  hopes  there'd  be  an  empty  on 
that  train  that  we  could  have  jumped,  and  made  it 
clean  through  to  Philadelphia.  Now,  we  will  have  to 
give  the  Express  a  whirl. 

Ben  had  scarce  got  his  boots  on,  after  cutting  them 
considerably,  when  the  express  was  heard  thundering 
in  the  distance. 


62  A  TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 

"  Look  alive  now !  "  cried  Tom.  "  Follow  me  close. 
She  hardly  stops  at  all,  —  only  just  slacks  up  for  that 
crossing  ahead." 

Down  rushed  the  express  on  another  track  from  the 
one  occupied  by  the  freight,  and  as  it  slacked  its  speed 
near  the  travellers,  they  sprang  from  their  hiding 
place,  and  hugging  tight  to  the  side  of  the  still  mov- 
ing train,  ran  along  it  toward  the  forward  end.  One 
look  at  the  express  car  sufficed  for  Tom. 

"'  No  go  !  "  he  hurriedly  whispered.  "  There's  a 
door  in  the  end.  Make  for  the  pilot.  Quick! 
Quick ! " 

Expedition  was  necessary,  for  the  air  breaks  had  re- 
leased their  grip  upon  the  wheels,  and  the  train  was 
again  assuming  speed. 

Tom  rushed  in  front  of  the  locomotive  and  with  a 
spring  and  a  scramble,  safely  seated  himself  on  the 
platform  immediately  above  and  in  the  rear  of  the  pi- 
lot ;  or,  as  it  is  better  known  in  schoolboy  nomencla- 
ture, the  "  cow-catcher." 

Ben  was  not  so  fortunate.  With  a  scantier  knowl- 
edge of  their  construction  and  the  art  of  boarding 
them,  his  foot  slipped  from  the  inclined  grating  and 
struck  the  fast  retreating  rail  beneath.  Another  in- 
stant and  he  would  have  been  drawn  down  to  death, 
had  not  Tommy's  hand  grasped  his  collar  and  aided 
him  up. 

"  Thank  you,  Tommy,"  he  said  warmly,  "  I  owe 
you  one." 

"  You  may  be  able  to  pay  me  sometime.  Aint  this 
old  peaches  !  "  And  Tommy  gazed  on  the  great  broad 
pathway  of  light  in  front,  made  by  the  Cyclopean  eye 
over  head. 


UNDER   THE   CYCLOPEAN   EYE.  63 

The  novelty  of  his  new  position  was  exhilarating 
to  Ben.  There  was  a  spice  of  danger  about  it,  that 
made  it  enchanting. 

What  if  the  locomotive  should  jump  the  track  ! 
Or  should  be  ditched  !  Or  run  into  another  train  ! 
Or  strike  some  stray  animal !  It  rocked  and  swayed 
to  and  fro  like  a  ship  at  sea.  He  could  hardly  satisfy 
himself  that  this  ratiling,  rickety,  rocking,  jumping, 
sliding,  groaning  iron  horse  was  the  same  metallic  an- 
imal that  pulled  those  easy  riding,  luxurious  coaches 
he  had  so  often  rode  in.  It  appeared  to  him  —  novice 
in  locomotive  riding  as  he  was  —  that  every  moment 
the  steel  shod  steed  was  about  to  leave  the  track  and 
take  to  the  fields.  Singular  too,  it  was  neither  cold 
nor  windy ;  for  nestling  close  against  the  iron  boiler 
head  both  felt  quite  comfortable. 

"  Tommy,"  said  Ben,  "  suppose  we  should  catchup 
a  horse  ?  " 

•  "  Then  we'd  be  a  horse  ahead,"  replied  Tom.  "  I 
met  a  tramp  who  had  taken  a  ride  on  a  cow-catcher 
on  the  New  York  Central.  He  was  bound  for  Buf- 
falo. Well  sir,  they  caught  up  a  big  pig,  and  landed 
it  all  unhurt,  but  terribly  scared,  right  into  the  tramp's 
lap.  He  hung  on  to  it,  and  when  he  got  the  bounce, 
he  took  the  pig  with  him  and  sold  it  for  enough  to 
pay  his  fare  to  Buffalo." 

"  And  bought  a  ticket  out  of  his  hog  speculation  ?  " 
suggested  Ben. 

"Of  course  not.  He  went  on  a  big  spree,  got 
broke  again,  and  beat  his  way  through." 

Ben  was  about  protesting  against  such  a  misappli- 
ance  of  the  means  good  fortune  had  placed  at  the 


64  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

tramp's  disposal,  when  the  current  of  his  thoughts 
was  radically  changed  by  a  lump  of  coal  striking  him 
on  the  foot. 

"  Hello  !     What's  that  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Wait  a  moment  and  I'll  see,"  said  Tommy,  rising 
and  peering  over  the  rim  of  the  boiler.  Scarce  had  his 
head  appeared  above  it  however,  when  he  quickly 
dodged  back,  and  another  lump  flew  whizzing  down 
the  broad  avenue  of  light, 

"  Just  as  I  suspected,"  said  he  ;  "  they  know  we 
are  here  and  the  fireman  is  pegging  coal  at  us  to  amuse 
himself." 

"What  will  we  do?" 

"  Why,  we  can't  do  any  thing,  only  wrap  our  coats 
over  our  heads  and  let  him  peg  away.  They  can't 
bounce  us  until  the  train  stops." 

But  the  fireman  soon  tired  of  his  sport,  and  only  an 
occasional  missile  reminded  the  voyagers  that  their 
presence  was  known  in  the  cab.  Once;  Ben  in  chang- 
ing his  position,  arose  to  his  feet  and  looked  the  Cy- 
clopean eye  square  in  the  pupil.  Tom  hastily  pulled 
him  down ;  but  none  too  soon,  for  a  shower  of  coal 
announced  the  indignation  he  had  excited  behind 
them. 

He  really  enjoyed  the  ride  and  could  scarce  credit 
his  senses  when  his  companion  informed  him  that  they 
had  come  forty  miles.  It  was  agreed  to  leave  the  pi 
lot  the  moment  the  train  slackened  speed  enough  to 
permit  their  so  doing,  and  Tommy  thought  that  it 
would  be  impolitic  to  attempt  to  "  jump  "  it  again,  as 
their  presence  was  known.  Therefore,  when  the  train 
drew  up  on  entering  the  depot  at  Trenton,  our 


UNDER   THE   CYCLOPEAN    EYE.  65 

voyagers  jumped  from  their  perch  and  were  greeted 
with  a  shower  of  coal  and  a  volley  of  imprecations 
by  the  irate  fireman,  both  missiles  passing  them  harm- 
lessly. 

As  they  turned  to  look  at  the  long  line  of  passen- 
ger coaches,  now  slowly  drawing  to  a  stop  in  the  de- 
pot, Ben  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise.  Seated  at  an  open 
window  he  had  seen  the  great,  glorious,  grey  eyes, 
and  their  owner.  Beside  her  sat  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman, while  in  a  seat,  immediately  in  their  rear,  was 
his  antagonist  of  the  previous  evening.  His  own  sur- 
prise prevented  him  from  noticing  that  Tommy's  face 
had  grown  ashy  white,  and  while  the  boy's  teeth  were 
clenched  until  his  lips  grew  blue,  hi.*  eyes  glowed 
with  an  unnatural  fire.  Cleveland  was  about  to  move 
off  toward  the  train,  when  Tommy  caught  him  by  the 
arm. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  he  asked,  hotly. 

"•  On  that  train,  Tom  ;  I  must,  I  must !  "  answered 
he,  little  appreciating  what  he  was  saying. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool.  What  are  you  going  to  do  on 
that  train  without  money  ?  " 

Ben  immediately  recovered  his  senses,  and  looked 
dejected. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  partner?"  asked 
Tommy  as  he  took  him  by  the  aim  and  the  two  turned 
away.  "  What  ails  you  ?  " 

'•  Tom,"  said  Ben  solemnly,  "  it  may  seem  very 
foolish  to  you,  but  I  should  like  to  know  that  young 
lady,  very  much." 

-What  for?'' 

"I  —  I  don't  really  know  ;  but  I  should,  indeed  I 
should  !  "  he  repeated  earnestly. 


66  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  Ben,  I'll  tell  you  something  for  your  consolation," 
said  the  boy  ;  "  they  are  going  to  St.  Louis,  too  !  " 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  Ben,  in  surprise. 

"  That  young  woman  with  the  grey  eyes." 

Ben  looked  his  amazement : 

"  Tom,"  he  at  last  said,  "  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  myself,"  replied  Tom.  "  There's  no  mystery 
about  me,  partner.  That  party  is  going  to  St.  Louis, 
and  I  happened  to  overhear  them  say  so  in  Jersey 
City.  Perhaps  you  may  meet  them  there  ;  and,"  he 
added  in  a  lower  tone  that  Ben  did  not  hear,  "  per- 
haps I  may." 


THE   PULLMAN   BOX  CAB.  67 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  PULLMAN  BOX   CAR. 

WHILE  loafing  about  the  depot,  waiting  for  an- 
other Philadelphia  train,  a  string  of  empty 
coal  flats  and  gondolas  drew  slowly  past  on  another 
track.  Tom's  quick,  practical  and  professional  eye 
immediately  noticed  them,  and  also  the  brand  on  the 
cars  telling  the  road  they  belonged  to. 

"  Hurrah !  "  said  he,  "  we've  made  a  close  connec- 
tion !  Come  on ! "  and  in  a  short  time  Ben  found 
himself  at  the  bottom  of  a  black,  dusty  coal-smeared 
gondola. 

"  Bully  I  "  exclaimed  Tommy.  "  Here  we  are  and 
no  one  saw  us  get  in,  so  if  we  keep  quiet  and  lay  low 
we  are  not  likely  to  be  disturbed." 

This  prediction  proved  correct,  for  they  travelled 
the  remainder  of  the  night  in  the  gondola  without 
being  noticed.  The  train  went  slow,  and  stopped 
often,  switching  frequently,  but  as  they  lay  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  car  and  there  was  no  travelling  over  them 
by  employees,  they  were  not  interfered  with.  Singu- 
larly enough,  Ben  fell  asleep  while  the  train  was  in 
motion,  and  slept  well.  The  jolting  of  the  gondola 


68  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

became  rather  conducive  to  his  slumbers,  than  other- 
wise. 

In  the  grey  of  the  dawn  the  two  got  down  at  a 
side  track,  in  the  city  of  Easton,  Pennsylvania,  cov- 
ered with  coal  dust  and  as  black  as  chimney  sweeps. 

"  We  are  across  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  anyway," 
said  Tommy. 

"  That's  encouraging,"  returned  Ben.  "  If  I  make 
as  good  time  right  through,  I  shall  win  my  wager 
easily." 

"  What  wager  ?  "  asked  Tommy. 

Ben  was  momentarily  confused,  but  answered  that 
he  had  wagered  with  some  friends  that  he  could  make 
St.  Louis  by  the  22d  of  the  month. 

"  Oh,  that's  easy  enough  done.  Let  us  have  a  scrub 
up,  and  then  get  some  chuck." 

The  "  scrubbing  up  "  proved  a  formidable  opera- 
tion. The  coal  dust  seemed  ground  into  their  skins, 
and  despite  much  rubbing  under  the  spou^  of  a  pump, 
Ben  differed  materially  in  appearance  from  the  young 
gentleman  who  had  left  New  York  city  but  a  day  be- 
fore. Much  of  this  was  due  to  the  rumpled  and  dirty 
condition  of  his  clothes,  which  were  all  creased,  and 
gave  him  the  appearance  of  having  been  run  through 
a  mill  of  some  sort. 

The  two  travellers  separated  with  the  agreement  to 
meet  at  the  railway  station  in  about  an  hour,  and  per- 
fect plans  for  future  operations.  Ben  was  quite 
hungry.  His  long  night's  ride  had  given  him  a 
vigorous  appetite  that  he  felt  would  have  to  be  ap- 
peased shortly.  He  also  felt  that  the  past  forty-eight 
hours  had  wrought  a  great  change  in  him.  He  was 


THE  PULLMAN   BOX   CAR.  69 

no  longer  himself,  so  to  speak.  A  new  man  had  been 
born  within  him.  A  callous,  careless,  independent 
man,  that  had  not  been  in  his  possession  before.  He 
felt  indifferent  as  to  appearances,  and  the  stares  of 
strangers  did  not  annoy  him.  He  shuffled  along  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  head  down.  He  slouched. 
A  marked  contrast  to  his  usual  erect  deportment.  In 
fact,  he  was  becoming  (though  he  did  not  know  it)  a 
tramp.  It  still  was  humiliating  to  have  to  ask  for 
something  to  eat,  but  nature  overcame  his  objections, 
and  he  proceeded  to  the  back  door  of  a  comfortable 
cottage.  The  door  was  open,  and  a  rough-looking, 
dirty  man  was  seated  at  a  table  eating  his  breakfast. 

"Well?"  said  this  individual,  surveying  Ben  sur- 
lily. 

"I  beg  your  pardon;  but  —  but — I'd  like  to  do 
something  to  earn  a  little  breakfast,  if — " 

"  That's  enough  !  "  interrupted  the  man.  "  Go 
work  for  your  living,  and  earn  it,  as  I  have  to  do.  Be 
off  now,  and  see  that  you  don't  take  any  thing  that 
don't  belong  to  you.  You  tramps  should  be  arrested. 
The  country's  overrun  and  ruined  with  you.  Why 
don't  you  give  up  your  lazy  life  and  go  to  honest  work 
like  the  rest  of  us  ?  " 

Poor  Ben  hastily  left,  and  felt  very  bad  about  his 
reception.  After  a  short  time  his  mortification  turned 
to^anger,  and  he  wished  a  score  of  times  that  he  could 
have  the  dirty  man  all  to  himself  in  a  quiet  place  for 
a  short  time.  He  moreover  determined  to  get  some 
breakfast  if  he  had  to  visit  every  house  in  Eastou. 
In  fact  the  repulse,  in  a  manner,  did  him  good. 

His  next  attempt  was  successful,  and  a  hospitable 


70  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

housewife,  after  shooing  her  children  into  the  "house 
with  her  extended  dress,  gave  him  a  very  substantial 
repast  on  the  buck  door  step.  She  was  evidently  ac- 
customed to  back  door  guests,  and  said  but  little  and 
asked  no  questions.  They  had  ceased  to  be  a  novelty. 

Thanking  her  in  a  gentlemanly  manner,  —  some- 
thing that  called  a  look  of  surprise  to  the  lady's  kind 
face  —  our  hero  made  his  way  to  the  depot,  with  a 
feeling  of  quiet  rest  in  the  region  of  his  late  hunger 
that  was  highly  satisfactory  and  worth  all  the  humili- 
ation in  the  world.  Who  should  he  there  discover 
seated  on  the  depot  steps,  picking  his  teeth  with  a 
splinter  and  hugging  a  small  bundle  under  his  arm, 
but  the  dirty  man  that  had  refused  him  a  breakfast. 
He  was  half  inclined  to  go  up  and  reproach  him  for 
his  inhospitality  ;  but  thought  better  of  the  matter, 
and  was  passing  on  with  a  frown,  when  the  dirty  man 
looked  up  with  a  grin,  and  said : 

"  Get  yer  peck,  pardy  ?  " 

"  What?  "  said  Ben,  turning  angrily  upon  him. 

"  Get  your  commissary  filled  ?  There,  there.  You 
needn't  be  angry  at  me.  There  wasn't  enough  for 
two  —  I  swar  there  wasn't.  I'd  invited  you  in  if 
thur  hed  been." 

"  Why  you  confounded  puppy,  you  are  nothing  but 
a  tramp  yourself,  then  !  "  exclaimed  Ben  in  indignant 
astonishment. 

"  Incourse,"  coolly  replied  the  dirty  man  ;  "I never 
'lowed  I  wus  any  thing  else."  And  he  grinned  again. 

Ben  felt  that  this  grin  was  contagious,  and  as  his 
outraged  sensibility  would  not  permit  him  entering 
into  fellowship  with  his  brother  professional,  he  moved 


THE  PULLMAN   BOX   CAR.  71 

away.     Ultimately  Tommy  and  he  had  a  good  laugh 
over  the  fellow's  cool  impudence. 

Tommy  shortly  made  his  appearance,  having  met 
with  his  usual  success,  though  he  confessed  to  visit- 
ing six  different  houses  before  his  appetite  was  ap- 
peased. 

A  freight  train  stood  on  a  side  track  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  depot,  and  after  a  professional  explor- 
ation, the  boy  returned  with  the  intelligence  that  it 
numbered  several  u  empties." 

"  It  is  a  splendid  chance,"  said  he,  enthusiastically. 
"  I  asked  one  of  the  yardmen  and  he  says  the  train  is 
made  up  for  over  the  mountains.  We  might  make 
Pittsburg  on  it." 

A  few  moments  later  the  two  were  safely  ensconced 
in  an  empty  car,  having  crawled  through  the  window 
in  the  end,  all  unobserved.  Crouching  down  in  a 
corner  they  remained  perfectly  quiet,  rarely  speaking 
even  in  a  whisper,  lest  they  should  attract  attention 
from  the  outside.  Several  times  footsteps  were  heard 
passing,  and  their  coming  and  going  were  matters  of 
the  most  intense  anxiety  to  Ben,  whose  imagination 
made  every  sound  a  conductor's  approach  and  an  ac- 
companying discovery.  At  last  the  train  started  ; 
backed  up  on  another  track  ;  switched  around  some 
cars  ;  and  then  all  remained  quiet  again  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, until  the  engineer  suddenly  sounded  "  off 
brakes  "  with  his  whistle,  and  the  voyagers  were  con- 
gratulating themselves  on  a  start,  when  a  dark  object 
was  hurled  through  the  window,  and  following  it, 
three  ragged  men,  one  after  another,  plunged  through, 
headforemost;  much  the  same  as  the  clown  goea 
through  the  baker's  window,  in  the  pantomime. 


72  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"Helloa!  Blazes!"  exclaimed  the  first  to  alight. 
"  All  the  berths  taken  ?  " 

"  Hush,"  said  Tom,  "or  you  will  give  us  away." 

"  That's  all  right.  We're  solid  now.  The  train's 
in  motion,"  said  another  ;  while  the  third  stepped  off 
the  "  wind  up  "  to  a  familiar  jig,  in  testimony  to  his 
utter  indifference  to  noise. 

Indeed  the  train  being  in  motion  the  chances  of 
discovery  were  greatly  diminished  in  the  voyagers 
favor. 

"  Where  you  travelling,  boss?  "  asked  he  of  the  an- 
tique carpet-bag,  which  proved  to  be  the  dark  object 
that  had  first  entered  the  window. 

"  St.  Louis,"  answered  Ben. 

"  St.  Louis  be  blowcd.  I  come  from  there  three 
months  ago  The  town's  a  good  town,  but  its  always 
crowded.  Better  go  South.  Cold  weather's  coming 
on  before  long, 

"  And  I  sigh  for  the  land, 
Where  the  orange  blossoms  bloom." 

And  he  wound  up  by  singing  these  lines  in  a  rich 
baritone  voice. 

"  Where  are  you  fellows  going  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Cincinnati,  sure's  you  breathe,"  answered  one. 

"  An'  then  New  Orleans  an'  the  jetties  !  We're 
the  United  States  Special  Commission  for  ascertain- 
ing the  depth  of  water  in  the  South  West  Pass,  — 
that's  who  we  are!"  said  the  terpsichorean  artist; 
and  another  series  of  jig  steps  emphasized  this  im- 
portant announcement. 

"  Hello,  young  fellow,"  exclaimed  the  third  man, 
extending  a  nod  of  recognition  to  Tommy.  "  How 
de  do.  Got  this  fur,  hev  ye  ?  " 


THE   PULLMAN   BOX  CAR.  73 

Tommy  recognized  a  fellow  traveller  who  had  jour- 
neyed from  Hartford  to  New  Haven  in  a  Pullman  pal- 
ace box  car  with  him.  He  recounted  what  had  hap- 
pened to  him  since  they  last  met,  and  in  return  his 
old  companion  told  him  he  had  been  to  Albany,  taken 
a  look  at  the  Legislature,  saw  the  political  bummers 
gathered  there  and  felt  ashamed  of  their  company,  de- 
parted for  Troy  to  attend  a  municipal  election,  got  on 
a  glorious  spree,  been  locked  up,  had  the  freedom  of 
the  outskirts  of  the  city  granted  him  at  the  police 
court,  "  beat  "  his  way  to  New  York  on  a  North  River 
boat,  and  was  now  migrating  South  to  save  the  expen- 
ses of  an  overcoat. 

From  the  conversation  that  followed,  Ben  learned 
that  one  was  a  printer,  another  a  carpenter,  and  the 
terpsichorean  artist  an  iron  and  brass  moulder  by  trade 
and  a  variety  performer  by  profession.  They  had 
several  times  obtained  work  during  the  summer,  but 
the  love  cf  a  vagabond  life  was  so  strong  within 
them,  that  job  after  job  had  been  deserted  for  this 
roving.  He  also  obtained  a  glimpse  of  a  fact  that  be- 
came more  palpable,  the  more  he  associated  during 
his  tramp,  with  this  class  of  American  gypsies.  It 
was,  that  underlying  the  rambling  propensities,  — 
nay  the  very  instigator  of  those  propensities  —  was 
the  vice  of  drunkenness.  In  their  quieter  moments 
expressions  escaped  the  trio  that  demonstrated  a 
hearty  contempt  for  the  life  they  were  leading,  and  a 
haunting  desire  to  return  to  the  paths  of  honest  in- 
dustry, and  the  comforts  of  a  settled  home.  But 
however  strong  this  last  feeling  may  have  been,  it 
was  evidently  overruled  by  the  thirst  after  those  hell- 


74  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

born  stimulants  with  which  man  is  allowed  to  destroy 
the  peace  and  prosperity  of  his  fellow  man.  As  the 
printer  remarked  to  Ben  : 

"  I  tell  you,  boss,  there's  not  a  ragged  coat  on  a 
dirty  back,  or  a  pair  of  torn  shoes  on  the  bruised  and 
blistered  feet  of  the  thousands  of  tramps  that  are 
rambling  around  the  country  like  wild  men,  but 
whiskey  is  the  first  cause  of  it  I  " 

"  Then  why  don't  they  stop  using  it  ? "  asked 
Cleveland. 

"  Give  it  up  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  As  well  ask  them 
to  give  up  life.  So  long  as  the  cursed  stuff  is  made, 
so  long  will  men  drink  it,  and  the  government  that 
licenses  and  protects  it  are  responsible  for  the  vaga- 
bonds it  makes.  They're  holding  conventions,  and 
wanting  to  know  what  the  devil  they're  to  do  with 
the  tramps  ?  Shut  up  the  distilleries  and  in  two  }rears 
there  will  be  no  tramps  !  Many  men  can  not  give  up 
the  use  of  liquor  when  left  to  themselves.  It  is  not 
a  habit,  it  is  a  cur  — ." 

"Oh  cheese  your  preaching!  Here  —  this  killed 
me  father  and  I'll  have  revenge  on  it ! "  and  with  a 
savage  laugh  the  moulder  thrust  a  bottle  into  the 
printer's  hand. 

The  printer,  who  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  looked 
at  the  liquor  askance  a  moment,  and  addressed  it  as 
follows : 

"  Oh,  you  father  of  all  curses  !  Murderer,  thief, 
ravisher  !  Stealer  of  men's  brains !  Caterer  for  the 
gallows  !  Feeder  of  the  jails  !  Soaked  in  the  tears 
of  widows,  mothers  and  orphans  !  Iconoclast,  break- 
ing £he  images  of  all  we  love  !  Defying  God,  and  de- 


THE   PULLMAN   BOX   CAB.  75 

facing  his  handiwork  !     Daubing  blood  on  the  face  of 

o  o 

humanity  !  Smearing  crime  on  the  garments  of  so- 
ciety !  Barring  the  door  to  Heaven !  Paving  the 
way  to  Hell !  Curse  you  !  Curse  you  !  Curse  those 
that  make  you  !  Curse  those  in  power  that  allow  you 
to  exist !  Fragments  of  Hell  hurled  into  Nineteenth 
Century !  How  I  hate  you  !  —  How  I  love  you  !  "  and 
with  trembling  hand,  and  glittering  eye,  he  drank 
deep  of  the  bottle's  contents. 

The  liquor  was  then  passed  around,  but  when  it 
came  to  Ben  he  refused  it.  In  that  box  car  and  from 
those  homeless  vagabonds  he  had  learned  a  lesson 
that  he  promised  himself  should  last  him  a  lifetime. 
It  was  "Total  abstinence."  Absolutely  total:  —  the 
only  safeguard  against  the  disease  of  drunkenness. 

Singular  enough  his  rough  companions  did  not  take 
his  refusal  to  drink  with  them  amiss.  The  moulder 
said :  "  It's  the  best  thing  you  ever  did  in  your  life 
to  let  it  alone,"  which  the  carpenter  indorsed,  by  re- 
marking :  "  If  I'd  done  it  years  ago,  I'd  not  be  here 
now." 

But  the  printer  said  —  rather  irrelevantly,  and  quite 
profanely  : 

"  We're  all  going  to  Hell  anyway  !  What's  the 
odds  so  long's  you're  happy  !  " 

After  awhile  the  three  tramps  sat  down  in  a  corner 
of  the  car,  and  one  of  them  producing  a  ragged  pack 
of  cards,  (which  same,  he  stated,  with  pardonable 
pride,  had  been  in  every  state  of  the  Union,  and^on 
nearly  all  the  railroads)  they  were  soon  engaged  in 
the  mysteries  of  that  ancient  game,  "  cut-throat  old- 
sledge,"  the  stakes  being  a  pull  at  the  bottle. 


76  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Ben  felt  drowsy,  and  having  had  but  little  sleep  the 
previous  night,  stretched  himself  at  full  length  on  the 
car  floor  and  was  soon  lost  in  a  sound  slumber.  The 
travellers  having  securely  fastened  the  end  gate  shut 
with  a  nail  (to  prevent  other  tramps  from  imposing 
their  presence  among  them,  and  also  to  repel  the  cu- 
riosity of  train  employees,)  kept  remarkably  quiet 
whenever  the  train  stopped,  which  it  frequently  did, 
and  so  rode  along  in  safety. 


A  BLOCK  IN  THE   WAY.  77 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A  BLOCK  IN  THE   WAY. 

BEN  was  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep  of  many 
hours,  by  a  rough  thrust  in  the  side. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Hough  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  his 
scattered  thoughts  not  having  yet  all  returned  from 
dreamland. 

"  111  '  how '  you,  you  scoundrel !  Get  out  of  this !" 
and  another  vigorous  poke  in  the  ribs  with  a  barrel 
stave  followed. 

This  last  attack  thoroughly  aroused  our  friend,  who 
awoke  to  find  the  car  deserted  by  all  save  himself, 
while  at  the  end  gate  appeared  the  face  of  a  burly 
brakeman  who  was  thus  unceremoniously  stirring  him 
up  with  a  stave. 

"•What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Ben. 

"Matter?  The  matter  is  that  you'll  get  out  of 
this  pretty  lively,  or  I'll  come  in  there  and  throw  you 
out !  "  cried  he  of  the  stave. 

"  Come  in  and  try  it,"  laconically  replied  our  trav- 
eller. 

The  conductor,  who  was  standing  outside,  watch- 
ing his  deputy's  performance,  asked  the  latter  if  any 
thing  was  the  matter  and  if  he  needed  help. 


78  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE 

Now  it  so  happened  that  the  brakeman  was  what  is 
known,  in  the  language  of  the  road,  as  a  "  bouncer." 
That  is,  he  was  a  hybrid  combining  the  qualities  of  a 
brakeman  and  a  bruiser,  and  was  frequently  called 
in  to  requisition  by  the  conductor  to  take  the  dirty 
work  of  ejecting  tramps  off  of  his  hands.  So  he  re- 
plied to  his  chief  that  he  needed  no  assistance,  but 
would  send  him  down  a  tramp  in  piecemeal  in  a  few 
moments.  With  this  he  plunged  through  the  end 
gate,  intent  on  giving  Ben  a  sound  drubbing.  But 
he  reckoned  without  his  host.  Ben  was  a  stout,  sin- 
ewy, young  fellow,  and  an  excellent  boxer,  though 
his  muscles  lacked  hardness.  As  the  "  bouncer " 
reached  for  his  collar  with  one  hand,  while  with  the 
other  he  aimed  a  blow  at  his  face,  Ben  gave  him  a 
trip  accompanied  by  a  stinging  punch  between  the 
eyes  that  sent  him  sprawling  to  the  floor ;  and  with  a 
knowledge  of  the  work  before  him,  brought  his  ad- 
versary down  with  smart  raps  three  times.successively, 
as  the  bully  strove  to  regain  his  feet. 

At  this  unexpected  treatment  the  professional 
"  bouncer  "  called  loudly  for  help,  and  his  chief,  slid- 
ing back  a  side  door,  sprang  to  the  rescue,  also  armed 
with  a  stave.  When  Ben,  whose  blood  was  now  up, 
turned  to  face  his  new  assailant,  the  "  bouncer  "  re- 
gained his  feet  and  stave,  and  aiming  a  vicious  blow 
at  Ben  missed  him,  from  the  fact  that  the  latter  at 
that  moment,  by  accident,  stepped  aside,  and  the  stave 
brought  the  conductor  a  tremendous  thwack  on  the  side 
of  his  head.  This  so  startled  and  enraged  the  la  ter, 
that  howling  with  pain  and  maddened  with  the  blood 
starting  from  a  gashed  cheek,  he  ignored  Ben,  and  re- 


A  BLOCK   IN   THE  WAY.  79 

turned  the  "  bouncer  "  his  blow  with  interest,  and  in 
a  moment  the  two  were  engaged  in  a  give  and  take 
pitch  battle. 

Our  hero  was  on  the  point  of  vacating  the  car,  but 
noticing  that  the  conductor,  who  was  a  small  man, 
was  about  to  get  the  worst  of  it,  he  turned,  and  seiz- 
ing the  "  bouncer  "  by  the  collar  hurled  him  through 
the  open  door,  and  followed  himself,  intent  on  renew- 
ing the  battle  outside,  when  he  suddenly  found  him- 
self surrounded  by  the  majesty  of  the  law  in  the 
shape  of  a  policeman.  Two  other  guardians  of  the 
peace  attracted  to  the  scene  by  the  noise  of  the  en- 
counter, seized  the  conductor  and  brakeman,  and  the 
trio  were  marched  off,  followed  by  half  a  score  of 
rail-roaders  ;  the  two  damaged  officials  breathing  fire 
and  fury  upon  one  another  to  the  utter  neglect  of 
Ben.  The  officer  in  charge  of  our  friend  informed 
him  that  he  was  safely  landed  in  the  ancient  town  of 
Harrisburg,  and  that  it  was  five  o'clock. 

Fortunately,  as  it  ultimately  proved,  the  police 
court  was  still  in  session,  being  engaged  on  special 
business.  The  prisoners  were  therefore  immediately 
marched  into  the  presence  of  a  short,  plethoric  Mile- 
sian gentleman,  who  upheld  the  honors  of  the  munici- 
pal bench. 

No  sooner  did  his  eyes  encounter  the  form  of  our 
friend  than  he  called  out : 

"  What !  Here  again,  are  yez  I  What  did  I  tell 
yez  the  last  time !  Ye're  here  too  often,  that  yez  air. 
Do  yez  think  the  coort  was  made  for  your  consump- 
tion ?  It's  twinty  dollars  and  costs,  or  sixty  days  in 
the  lockup.  Shut  up!  Every  word  out  of  yez  will 
be  sixty  days  more.  What's  the  charges,  officer  ?  " 


80  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Poor  Ben  was  dumbfounded.  He  was  positive  he 
had  never  met  this  vicious  little  magnate  before  in 
all  his  life,  and  did  not  know  that  the  greeting  he  re- 
ceived was  the  august  manner  in  which  the  blind  god- 
dess of  the  police  court  of  -Harrisburg  struck  terror 
into  the  hearts  of  those  who  hud  the  misfortune  to 
tread  011  the  tail  of  her  coat. 

The  preference  of  a  hearing  was  given  to  the  con- 
ductor and  brakeman.  Both  had  now  secured  legal 
assistance,  and  a  charge  of  assault  and  battery  was 
preferred  by  each  against  the  other.  Their  cases 
were  set  for  a  future  hearing,  and  both  released  on 
their  own  recognizance  ;  when  they  immediately  with- 
drew accompanied  by  their  friends,  entirely  neglect- 
ing Ben,  much  to  his  gratification.  All  the  officer 
who  had  arrested  him  could  charge  him  with  was  be- 
ing a  vagrant  caught  in  the  vicinity  of  railroad  prop- 
erty ;  which  same  is  a  serious  enough  petty  offence 
along  the  line  of  the  Central  road. 

The  little  judge  asked  him  if  he  had  any  thing  to 
say  for  himself,  and  immediately  thereafter  told  him 
to  "  shut  up  !  "  He  then  went  into  a  lengthy  diatribe 
against  tramps  in  general,  and  wound  up  by  giving 
Ben  sixty  days  in  the  workhouse. 

Our  traveller  stood  aghast !  There  was  no  provis- 
ion in  his  wager  about  forcible  detention,  and  he  felt 
himself  lost.  Here  then  was  an  end  to  all  his  hopes 
and  ambitions.  From  a  tramp  he  was  about  to  de- 
scend to  the  deeper  degradation  of  a  workhouse  expe- 
rience. The  little  justice  must  have  noticed  his  con- 
sternation, for  he  smiled  gleefully. 

"Oye,  that  shuits  yez  too  well,  don't  it?"  he  ex- 


A    BLOCK    IN   THE   WAY.  81 

claimed.  "  Sixty  d&ys  boord,  lodgin'  and  washin'  at 
the  ixpinse  av  the  county !  Egad  sor,  it  ud  be  foiu  ! 
Chur  foin,  me  lad,  cliur  foin  !  Yez  hid  bate  yer  way 
an  hundrid  moils  for  the  loike  ;  so  yez  would !  We'd 
have  all  the  thramps  in  the  country  to  kape,  so  we 
would,  be  gorra  !  Pater,  is  the  walkin'  good  ?  "  this 
last  to  a  policeman. 

"  Yes,  your  Honor,"  answered  Peter. 

"•  Thin  furnish  this  gintleman  wid  a  good  map  av 
the  county,  and  the  coort  will  suspiud  sintince  for  wan 
hour!  Nixt!" 

An  officer  accompanied  our  friend  to  the  door  of 
the  hall  of  justice,  and  bade  him  leave  the  city  imme- 
diately ;  and  the  little  judge  shouted  after  him  : 

"  Moind  yez  thramp,  if  yez  air  found  in  the  city  of 
Horrisbug  sixty  minutes  from  the  prisint  momint,  Oil 
set  yez  chu  studyin'  geology  wid  a  hammer  for  the 
binefit  of  the  city  strates-for  the  remainder  av  the 
year.  Now  moind  !  " 

Ben  was  so  overjoyed  with  his  freedom  that  the  ter- 
rible words  of  this  terrible  little  man  were  music  in 
his  ears.  His  first  thought  on  regaining  the  street 
was  to  get  out  of  town.  His  next  one  was  to  get  on 
the  railroad  track  and  strike  westward.  He  wondered 
what  could  have  become  of  Tommy,  and  sadly  missed 
his  little  companion. 

To  retrace  our  steps  and  account  for  his  having  been 
left  alone  in  the  car  will  not  necessitate  much  of  a  di- 
gression. While  Ben  placidly  slept  the  three  tramps 
continued  their  game  of  "  old  sledge  "  and  their  ap- 
plication to  the  bottle.  They  at  last  became  so  primed 
with  the  evil  spirits  in  the  latter,  as  to  awake  bellig- 


82  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

erent  spirits  of  their  own,  and  as  the  train  drew  into 
Hariisburg  were  engaged  in  a  loud  wrangle  that  was 
heard  by  employees  in  the  yard,  and  they 'were  conse- 
quently routed  out  of  the  car,  and  Tommy  along  with 
them.  Ben,  however,  was  overlooked,  and  his  little 
friend  viewing  it  as  a  stroke  of  good  fortune  in  the 
sleeper's  favor,  thought  to  allow  him  to  remain  and 
ride  through  so  far  as  he  could  alone.  But  the  train 
had  received  orders  to  sidetrack  in  Harrisburg  and 
await  instructions,  and  while  on  the  side  track,  Ben's 
snoring  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  conductor 
with  the  results  already  known  to  the  reader. 

Taking  to  the  track  as  his  surest  and  safest  road, 
the  sun  was  kissing  earth  good  night,  when  he  left 
the  city  limits  of  Harrisburg  behind  him.  He  walked 
on  at  a  brisk  pace  until  twilight  gathered  its  dusky 
arms  about  him  and  then  found  it  necessary  to  go  a 
little  slower,  as  he  was  continually  stumbling  against 
the  ties. 

About  three  miles  from  the  city  he  was  met  by 
two  voyagers  going  east.  These  gentlemen  of  the 
foot  path  informed  him  that  they  were  on  their  way 
to  Philadelphia,  and  had  been  "  bounced "  from  a 
freight  train  some  six  miles  back.  Neither  appeared 
to  have  any  definite  object  in  visiting  Philadelphia, 
and  were  probably  travelling  on  general  principles, 
thinking  they  might  as  well  be  going  there  as  any 
where.  Their  intention  was  to  make  Harrisburg  and 
lodge  in  the  police  station  ;  resuming  their  line  of 
march  in  the  morning. 

These  tramps  were  quite  kind  in  supplying  Cleve- 
land with  information  relative  to  his  route.  They 


A   BLOCK   IN"   THE   WAY.  83 

stated  that  the  road  was  crowded  with  tramps,  going 
in  both  directions,  but  the  majority  heading  for 
the  west.  They  also  told  him  of  several  good  "•  hang 
ups,"  in  the  way  of  barns  and  sheds,  that  with  the 
eyes  of  experts  they  had  noticed  as  they  came  along. 

Ben  lost  no  time  in  seeking  a  comfortable  resting  place 
and  was  soon  asleep  dreaming  of  two  great,  glorious, 
grey  eyes  that  looked  out  sweetly  upon  him  from  the 
snowy  folds  of  a  nubia.  Then,  as  he  dreamed,  the 
look  in  the  grey  eyes  changed  to  one  of  sorrow,  and 
they  filled  with  tears.  Anon  a  look  of  fright  filled 
them,  and  the  voice  of  the  fair  one  called  to  him : 
"  Save  me  Ben !  Save  me  !  " 

And  Ben  crying  out  "  I  will!"  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and  found,  by  Tommy's  time  piece  —  the  Dipper  — 
that  he  had  slept  nearly  five  hours. 


84  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A  GLIMPSE   OF  DEATH. 

CLEVELAND  hastened  down  the  track  in  the 
bright  star  light,  and  arrived  at  the  tank  re- 
ferred to  by  the  two  tramps,  just  in  time.  For  scarce 
had  he  retreated  into  a  clump  of  weeds,  when  the 
freight  train  made  its  appearance  and  stopped  for  wa- 
ter. .  Ben  had  now  some  experience  in  boarding  trains, 
and  in  a  quiet,  stealthy  manner  crept  along  >the  sides 
of  the  cars,  with  a  watchful  eye  and  ear  for  train  men. 
At  last  he  found  one  with  an  end  window  open.  It 
proved  to  be  a  box  car  loaded  with  lumber,  with  just 
the  nicest  little  place  in  the  world  for  a  man  to  stow 
himself  away  in.  The  lumber  was  piled  up  to  within 
a  few  inches  of  the  roof,  but  between  the  ends  of  the 
planks  and  the  end  of  the  car  was  a  space  about  three 
feet  wide,  in  which  he  hastened  to  lower  himself  with 
a  congratulatory  chuckle. 

By  feeling  the  boards  he  discovered  that  the  load 
consisted  of  inch  planks,  of  dressed  lumber,  for  some 
three  feet  from  the  car  floor,  after  which  followed  two 
inch  planking.  The  ends  of  the  top  load  of  two  inch 
etuff  projected  a  foot  or  more,  like  a  verandah  roof, 


A   GLIMPSE  OF  DEATH.  85 

over  the  inch  boards,  and  made  him  quite  as  cosy  and 
comfortable  a  little  house  as  the  heart  of  a  tramp 
could  desire.  What  is  more  it  was  warm  and  clean, 
and  our  traveller  stretching  himself  on  the  floor  of 
his  apartment,  was  soon  sound  asleep,  with  the  song 
of  the  wheels  and  the  response  of  the  ringing  rails  in 
his  ears  for  a  lullaby. 

Long  he  slept,  and  well ;  until  wicked  dreams  came 
to  abuse  his  curtained  sleep.  First  they  intruded 
upon  him  in  the  shape  of  great,  glorious,  grey  eyes 
and  a  nubia,  and  several  moments  of  ecstasy  were 
passed  in  the  company  thereof.  Indeed  many  men 
can  make  love  better  asleep  than  they  can  awake,  and 
who  of  the  sterner  sex,  when  young  and  lusty  in  the 
full  vigor  of  brand  new  manhood,  has  not  had  those 
luscious  dreams,  a  counterpart  of  which  it  would  be 
impossible  for  reality  to  produce  !  If  there  be  him 
who  has  not  had  them  —  he  has  our  sympathy.  Na- 
ture has  withheld  from  hirn  one  of  the  choicest  bon- 
bons in  her  basket. 

So  Ben  dreamed.  He  was  with  her.  Her  hand 
was  in  his,  her  heart  beating  against  his  heart,  her 
warm  breath  on  his  cheek,  her  glowing  breast  heaving 
in  gentle  undulations  against  his  bosom.  She  mur- 
mured love,  confidence  and  endearments.  He  talked 
heroically,  and  felt  the  cup  of  his  happiness  full  to 
running  over.  But  there  came  a  change.  Suddenly 
a  tall  dark  man  came  between  them,  and  attempted  to 
separate  the  lovers.  She  clung  about  his  neck  and 
prayed  him  to  save  her.  But  the  dark  man  overpow- 
ered him.  He  tore  her  from  his  arms  and  wound  his 
own  with  an  iron  grip  about  Ben's  form.  He  strug- 


86  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

gled  to  release  himself.  His  struggles  were  futile. 
Closer  and  closer  grew  the  embrace.  It  seemed  as 
though  it  was  crushing  in  his  bones.  He  could  not 
breathe  with  it.  It  had  assumed  the  coils  of  a  gi- 
gantic serpent,  and  fold  upon  fold  was  wrapped  around 
his  body  and  tightening  upon  it.  He  writhed  and 
groaned  in  agony.  His  breath  came  short  and  thick. 
His  head  seemed  a  molten  mass  of  fire,  bursting 
with  the  pressure.  His  eyes  started  from  their  sock- 
ets. Yet  closer,  still  closer,  the  folds  drew  about 
him,  and  the  dark  face  of  the  man  became  the 
hideous,  gaping  mouth  of  a  serpent,  that  licked  him 
with  its  forked  tongue,  and  whose  hiss  sounded 
deafening  in  his  ears,  while  its  bright,  devilish  lit- 
tle eyes  gloated  on  him  with  terrible  intent. 

With  a  yell  of  fear  and  agony  he  awoke  ! 

His  clothes  were  wringing  with  sweat,  and  the  per- 
spiration was  pouring  from  his  body.  All  was  dark, 
—  Egyptian  darkness,  —  a  fearful,  appalling  black ! 

And  though  awake,  the  iron  folds  still  held  him  in 
their  terrible  embrace.  Was  he  awake !  Was  it  real ! 
Was  it  not  some  horrible  nightmare  that  still  accom- 
panied him  ! 

What  was  this  iron  hand  that  clutched  him  ?  What 
these  terrible  coils  about  his  person,  squeezing  life  out 
of  him  ?  What  this  hot,  close  burning  breath  he 
felt? 

Arouse  you  Ben,  arouse  and  pray  !  Pray !  Pray 
as  you  never  prayed  in  your  life  before  !  The  gates 
of  Eternity  are  swinging  ajar,  and  you  are  to  have  a 
glimpse  of  DEATH. 

One  hand,  partly  released,  he   extended   upward. 


A   GLIMPSE    OF   DEATH.  87 

Horror !  It  struck  against  a  solid  wall  of  lumber  that 
completely  closed  him  in,  and  converted  his  chamber 
into  a  living  tomb.  But  there  was  not  death.  No, 
no.  That  was  but  the  trap.  Death  came  surging 
down  upon  him  in  the  shape  of  four  thousand  feet  of 
lumber,  moving  slowly,  noislessly,  but  oh,  how  fear- 
ful and  sure,  upon  his  devoted  body,  as  the  train 
toiled  up  a  heavy  grade.  Already  the  mass  had  pinned 
him  to  the  end  of  the  car  so  that  he  could  not  move 
his  body.  It  was  crushing  in  his  very  ribs.  He  found 
it  hard  to  breathe.  His  head  was  on  fire.  He  yelled 
and  shrieked  for  help.  Prayed  ;  entreated;  supplica- 
ted. All  in  vain.  The  revolving  wheels  crunched 
out  a  dismal  monody  beneath  him.  Requiem  for  a 
dying  soul.  And  afar  off  could  be  heard  the  groan- 
ing of  the  locomotive  as  it  toiled  up  the  steep  moun- 
tain side. 

Horrible  fancies  took  possession  of  him.  He  thought 
himself  dead  and  laughed  deliriously.  Then,  in  saner 
moments,  he  called  upon  his  God  to  end  his  torture, 
and  send  a  speedy  death  to  his  release.  A  release 
from  the  slow,  lethargic,  creeping  monster,  that  was 
sucking  up  his  life  atom  by  atom  ;  hair's  breadth  by 
hair's  breadth.  In  those  few  awful  moments  the  pan- 
orama of  his  life  was  unfolded,  and  the  dead  past  res- 
urrected, revealing  itself  more  palpable  to  him  than 
the  living  present.  Worse  than  the  tortures  of  the 
Inquisition,  where  weights  were  heaped  upon  the 
breast  of  a  prostrate  man,  were  now  upon  him. 
Shorter  and  shorter  came  his  breath.  He  hated  to 
die  !  He  would  not !  He  could  not !  Ha,  ha  !  The 
great,  dull,  shapeless  fiend  that  was  crushing  out  his 


88  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

existence  seemed  to  laugh  at  him  derisively.  Blood 
started  from  his  nostrils  ;  water  gushed  from  his  eyes ; 
and  the  fiend  with  one  great  yell  closed  a  last  clutch 
upon  his  life,  and  he  was  released  from  his  agony. 

When  B.en  recovered  consciousness  he  was  lying  on 
the  floor  of  the  car,  and  a  kind,  rough  face  was  bend- 
ing over  him.  There  was  plenty  of  room  about  him. 
The  last  yell  of  the  fiend  that  was  smothering  him, 
when  he  lost  consciousness,  was  the  whistle  of  the  lo  - 
comotive  announcing  that  it  had  reached  the  summit 
of  the  grade.  In  the  descent  on  the  other  side,  the 
lumber  had  moved  away  from  him  as  steadily  as  it  had 
before  moved  down  upon  him.  Had  the  up  grade 
lasted  but  a  short  distance  further,  Ms  tramp  would 
have  been  over  forever.  There  was  blood  upon  his 
face  as  a  reminder  of  the  agony  he  had  passed  through, 
and  he  felt  weak,  limp  and  lifeless,  while  the  clour 
sun  light  was  streaming  in  upon  him  from  the  open 
end  gate. 

"  That  was  a  pretty  close  call,  my  friend,"  said  the 
brakeman,  who  in  going  over  the  cars  had  chanced  to 
look  in  at  the  open  window  and  noticed  our  friend 
stretched  lifeless  upon  the  floor.  Though  it  was  nearly 
an  hour  after  he  had  received  his  squeeze,  the  man 
readily  understood  the  situation  and  the  peril  Ben  had 
passed  through.  "  That  was  a  pretty  close  call  on 
you." 

"  It  was  that,"  faintly  responded  Ben. 

"  I  remember  you,"  continued  the  man  ;  "  you  are 
the  tramp  that  whipped  Joe  Brown  at  Harrisburg  yes- 
terday. I  don't  approve  of  fighting,  but  I'm  glad  you 
gave  him  a  beating.  He's  the  biggest  bully  on  the 


A  GLIMPSE   OF   DEATH.  89 

road,  and  takes  a  delight  in  thumping  men  smaller 
than  himself.  Where  are  you  bound  for  ?  St.  Louis, 
hey.  And  you  aint  got  no  money  ?  No  ?  Well 
there  are  a  great  many  travelling  in  your  fix,  nowa- 
days, and  our  orders  are  very  strict  about  putting 
them  off  the  trains.  But  I'll  break  rules  this  time, 
and  won't  know  that  you're  here." 

Ben  looked  his  gratitude,  and  pressed  the  man's 
hand. 

"  You  can  stay  safely  here  now,"  he  continued ; 
"  for  the  road's  pretty  level  for  some  miles  yet.  When 
we  are  to  go  up  the  mountains,  I'll  come  back  here, 
and  show  you  another  car  that's  filled  with  barrels, 
and  you  can  get  in  at  the  end  window  and  go  safe  to 
Alatoona." 

"  God  bless  you  !  "  said  Ben  fervently.  "  I  feel 
very  weak." 

"  Yes,  I  see  you  do,"  and  a  look  of  sympathy  came 
over  the  great,  rough,  grimy  face  of  the  brakeman, 
and  looked  well  there,  although  the  face  was  badly 
mottled  with  coal  dust  and  tobacco  juice.  "  I  see  you 
do,  partner.  And  it's  agin  rules  bad,  and  they  are 
strict,  but  when  this  crew  changes  at  Alatoona,  I'll 
give  you  a  good  word  with  the  man  that  takes  my 
place,  and  you  may  be  able  to  make  it  to  Pittsburg. 
There'll  be  down  brakes  in  a  minute,  for  a  crossing, 
and  I  must  go.  So  long."  And  his  burly  figure 
crawled  through  the  window,  and  out  on  the  roof  of 
the  car. 

Ben  had  closed  his  eyes  a  moment,  when  they  again 
opened  to  see  the  face  of  the  brakeman,  upside  down 
at  the  end  gate,  he  being  extended  flat  on  the  roof  of 
the  car. 


90  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  I  say,  partner,  that  was  pretty  close,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

Ben  nodded. 

"  Was  yer  prepared,  partner  ?  " 

Ben  looked  his  surprise. 

"  Did  you  know  who  shoved  that  there  lumber  back 
off  of  ye  ?  " 

Our  friend  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  God  did  it,  partner.  You  might  say  a  word  of 
thanks,  if  yer  felt  so  inclined.  So  long."  And  the 
dirt-begrimed,  tobacco-painted  face  disappeared. 


THE   MARCH   TO   FORT   DUQUESNB.  91 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE   MARCH  TO  FORT   DTJQUESNE. 

THE  train  man  was  as  good  as  his  word.  Ere 
they  climbed  the  mountains  to  the  pretty  town 
of  Alatoona,  that  sits  perched  like  a  crow's  nest,  on 
the  summit  of  the  Alleghanies,  he  transferred  Ben  to 
another  car.  And  when  they  reached  Alatoona,  and 
the  train  changed  crews,  he  not  only  gave  him  into 
the  care  of  another  brakeman  of  the  new  crew,  but, 
as  the  train  would  stop  there  half  an  hour,  he  took 
him  to  his  own  home  and  made  him  eat  a  substantial 
meal. 

Daylight  was  fading  out  of  the  west  when  the  train 
drew  out  of  Alatoona.  The  car  with  the  barrels  in 
had  been  left,  and  our  hero  was  now  safely  stowed  in 
one  loaded  with  pig  iron  that  had  been  brought  off 
of  the  Williamsburg  branch.  Darkness  prevented 
the  traveller  from  viewing  the  glorious  mountain 
scenery,  in  the  train's  descent  from  the  hills.  The 
great  Horse  Shoe  Bend,  with  its  panoramic  views  of 
mountains,  woodlands,  and  valleys ;  the  old  grade  on 
the  opposite  mountains,  where  —  in  times  of  yore  — 
they  sailed  canal  boats  over  the  hills  on  rails,  and  de- 


92  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

posited  them  safely  in  their  native  elements  on  the 
western  slope,  together  with  the  many  enchanting 
scenes  this  road  runs  through,  were  all  lost  to  him. 
Nor  did  he  see  Johnstown,  with  its  great  Cambria 
Iron  and  Steel  Works,  the  largest  in  the  world  (and 
a  popular  resort  of  hundreds  of  tramps  who  journey 
that  way  and  toast  their  sides  among  its  many  fires 
and  furnaces).  Nor  could  he  view  the  noisy  little 
Conemaugh,  that  led  the  rail  road  along  its  bank  to 
the  foot  hills  below.  We -say  Ben  saw  none  of  these, 
for,  in  the  first  place  it  was  night,  and  in  the  second, 
his  patron  —  the  new  brakeman  —  had  shut  him  up 
in  the  car,  and  told  him  to  keep  the  doors  and  end 
gates  closed,  both  as  a  matter  of  protection  from  the 
prying  eyes  of  road  officials,  and  to  prevent  a  horde 
of  impecunious  travellers  —  like  Ben — from  enter- 
ing. The  last  was  by  no  means  visionary  advice, 
for  at  nearly  every  station  and  side  track  the  doors 
and  windows  were  tried  by  tramps,  who  fcad  awaited 
the  shades  of  night  to  aid  them  in  "jumping"  a 
train. 

Ben,  still  somewhat  weak  from  his  recent  adven- 
ture, yet  feeling  in  a  peaceful  state  of  mind  from  the 
assurance  of  his  ride  and  the  beneficial  effect  of  the 
hearty  supper  he  had  made  at  the  home  of  the  hospit- 
able brakemau  in  Alatoona,  dozed  on  the  pig  iron. 
His  bed  was  a  hard  one,  to  be  sure  ;  but  when  one 
side  was  dented  so  as  to  be  no  longer  endured  (which 
occurred  every  little  while)  he  turned  over  on  an- 
other ;  and  by  so  revolving  discovered  the  important 
fact  that  a  man  is  in  possession  of  four  sides  with 
which  he  may  lie  on  the  hardest  of  beds  in  compara- 


THE   MARCH  TO   FORT  DUQUESNE.  93 

live  comfort  by  judiciously  using  them  in  rotation. 
That  is  continually  turning  from  left  to  right  or  right 
to  left,  as  the  case  may  be,  so  that  when  No.  1  is  worn 
out  No.  4  will  be  fresh,  and  ready  for  use. 

When  they  arrived  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city  of 
Pittsburg,  the  brakeman  appeared  at  the  end  gate  and 
told  Ben  he  had  best  disembark  at  East  Liberty  and 
walk  into  the  city,  to  avoid  being  seen  by  watchmen 
at  the  lower  yards.  Cleveland  thanked  him  for  the 
ride,  and,  as  the  train  slacked  up,  dismounted  to  find 
himself  in  the  suburbs  of  the  Smoky  City,  in  the  grey 
of  the  dawn. 

"  Good  enough,"  said  he,  stretching  himself,  and 
rubbing  his  stiffened  limbs;  "-good  enough.  Three 
da}rs  gone  and  I  have  mude  over  four  hundred  and 
fifty  miles.  If  I  can  keep  up  this  rate  of  travel  I  will 
win  my  wager  and  have  time  to  spare." 

As  he  walked  toward  the  heart  of  the  city,  he  met 
several  knights  of  the  foot  path  who  had  rolled  out 
of  lumber  yards  and  from  about  the  furnaces  of  iron 
mills.  These  informed  him  that  Pittsburg  was  con- 
sidered an  excellent  tramp  town  by  the  fraternity. 
Indeed  the  generous  citizens  had  established  a  home 
for  them  on  Duquesne  Way,  where  they  were  both 
lodged  and  fed  in  gorgeous  style.  But,  he  was  told, 
breakfast  would  be  over  before  he  could  reach  the 
"  home,"  and  as  the  tramps  did  not  dine  until  six  P. 
M.,  and  guests  were  not  allowed  to  remain  in  the  salon 
during  the  day  time,  our  traveller  reflected  that  it 
would  do  him  no  good  to  visit  the  institution  until 
hospitalities  opened.  As  he  still  felt  too  weak  for  the 
road,  he  resolved  to  spend  the  day  in  fasting  and  view* 


94  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

ing  the  iron  industries  for  which  the  city  is  famous. 
He  strolled  around  among  these  and  chatting  with  the 
hands  was  told  that  the  good  town's  glory  was  depart- 
ing from  out  its  hands.  Years  ago,  before  it  became 
a  great  iron  mart,  the  city  had  been  the  most  exten- 
sive shipping  point  in  the  then  "  Great  West."  Steam- 
boats crowded  one  another  at  its  levees,  and  the  man- 
ufacturers of  the  east  were  continually  departing  down 
the  Ohio,  for  the  southern  and  western  countries,  in 
vast  quantities.  Then  came  the  era  of  rail  roads  and 
the  rapid  settlement  of  the  far  west,  and  Fort  Du- 
quesne,  as  a  great  shipping  point,  ceased  to  exist. 
But  when  this  industry  was  wrested  from  it,  the  brave 
old  town  adopted  another.  The  transportation  center 
of  vast  coal  fields  and  iron  deposits,  she  soon  became 
a  manufacturing  hive,  unequalled  on  the  continent, 
and  for  many  years  upheld  the  reputation  of  the 
Birmingham  of  America. 

But  there  came  a  change. 

Capital  ripped  open  the  bowels  of  Mother  Earth, 
and  stole  the  ores  with  which  the  good  dame  was  preg- 
nant, in  other  and  newer  localities,  far  away.  Iron 
works  shot  up  their  tall  chimnies  all  over  the  west ; 
at  Cleveland,  Columbus,  Chicago,  Joliet,  Indianapolis, 
Terra  Haute,  St.  Louis  and  elsewhere.  As  a  conse- 
quence the  good  town  found  its  second  sceptre  taken 
away,  and  the  grip  it  had  held  upon  the  Great  West, 
BO  long  and  well,  Ben  found  had  dwindled  down  to 
its  coal  fleets,  which,  with  the  vast  natural  resources 
of  Pittsburgh  water-ways,  it  is  never  likely  to  be 
deprived  of.  All  this  he  heard,  and  much  more. 
He  learned  that  the  city  had  a  magnificent  debt — • 


THE  MARCH   TO   FORT   DUQUESXE.  9-3 

that  was  a  thing  of  beauty  and  apparently  a  joy 
forever.  No  one  appeared  to  know  just  how  much 
it  was,  but  all  agreed  that  it  was  ahead,  per  capita, 
of  any  other  city  in  the  Union  —  and  this  was  a 
source  of  much  honest  pride.  For  though  the  city's 
commerce  and  manufactures  might  be  stolen  from 
it  by  western  upstarts,  they  could  not  take  its 
debt. 

Ben  discovered  more  real  courtesy  and  kindness  to- 
ward poverty  in  Pittsburg,  than  in  any  other  town  he 
visited  during  his  tramp.  The  inhabitants  were  so- 
ciable, generous  and  unpretending. 

While  our  friend  was  standing  in  the  doorway  of  a 
mill,  observing  the  men  draw  out  the  glowing,  cherry- 
red  bars  from  the  rolls,  and  listening  to  the  "bloom" 
snap  and  crackle,  like  a  roll  of  musketry,  in  the 
jaws  of  the  squeezer,  he  heard  a  little  exclamation 
in  a  female  voice.  It  was  simply  "  Oh,  my ! "  but 
it  sent  a  thrill  through  every  nerve  in  his  body, 
for  it  was  the  voice  of  her  he  nightly  met  in  hJs 
dreams.  He  dared  not  look  up,  but  stood  there, 
feeling  her  presence,  and  with  the  music  of  her 
voice  ringing  in  his  ears,  waiting  to  hear  her  speak 
agai  n . 

But  the  "  Oh,  my ! "  was  not  repeated,  as  she  of 
the  grey,  glorious  eyes  had  only  made  the  exclamation 
while  passing  in  company  with  an  elderly  gentleman, 
and  observing  the  glowing  "  bloom  "  pass  into  the 
squeezer.  When  Ben  looked  up,  they  were  no  where 
to  be  seen. 

"  Well,"  he  muttered,  "  what  is  to  be,  will  be. 
Tommy  said  they  were  going  to  St.  Louis,  and  I  may 


96  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

see  her  there.  In  my  present  condition  it  would  do 
me  but  little  good  to  meet  her,  anyway,  I  presume. 
I'm  a  tramp  !  Actually  and  professionally,  a  tramp, 
and  I  begin  to  look  and  feel  like  one.  Should  I  lose 
my  wager,  I  may  adopt  the  business  permanently," 
and  he  laughed  not  altogether  well  pleased  with  him- 
self. 


A  MYSTERY.  97 


CHAPTER    XI. 

A  MYSTERY. 

f"  TELL  you,  Nipper,  if  you  will  only  give  me  half 
A  a  chance  I  will  make  the  matter  all  right. 
What  do  you  get  by  pushing  me  so  ?  The  plain  facts 
are  that  if  you  have  me  arrested,  you  get  nothing ; 
whereas  if  you  let  me  alone  I  will  do  as  I  have  prom- 
ised, and  you  shall  not  only  have  the  full  value  of  the 
notes,  but  the  bonus  besides." 

Ben  listened  intently  for  the  answer.  It  was  in  the 
dusk  of  evening,  and  he  was  sauntering  up  from  a 
view  of  one  of  the  most  picturesque  bridges  in  the 
world  —  and  the  only  one  of  its  kind  in  the  United 
States ;  there  being  only  one  duplicate  in  existence, 
and  that  in  Europe.  It  is  of  iron  and  spans  the  Mo- 
nongahela  (Oh  gloriously  suggestive  name  !  Whose 
delightfully  realistic  anatomy  is  so  pregnant  with  re- 
membrances of  the  liquid  destruction  our  grandsires 
admired  !  )  immediately  at  the  point  of  land  formed 
by  the  wedding  of  that  stream  with  the  Alleghany  ; 
the  two  thereafter  journeying  through  life  as  one  un- 
der the  name  of  Ohio. 

As   Ben  was   turning  the  angle  of  a  low  wooden 


98  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

shed,  the  voices  of  persons  in  conversation  struck  upon 
his  ear,  and  the  familiar  tones  of  one  of  them  caused 
him  to  take  to  the  shade  of  the  building  and  play  the 
not  very  honorable  part  of  eavesdropper.  Charles 
Lever,  in  that  picturesque,  but  highly  improbable 
"  Boy  of  Norcotes,"  allows  the  boy  to  state  in  a  prig- 
gish manner,  that  eavesdropping  is  reprehensible  on 
account  of  the  impossibility  of  a  gentleman  using  the 
information  so  obtained,  and  immediately  thereafter 
causes  the  boy  to  tell  all  he  overhears.  Ben  had  not 
read  the  book  referred  to,  and  did  not  feel  ashamed 
of  himself.  Nor  having  listened  was  there  a  dull, 
dead  feeling  of  lost  self-respect  that  urged  him  to  go 
and  throw  himself  into  the  river,  and  seek  at  its  bot- 
tom oblivion  offering  a  rest  from  remorse  that  this  life 
could  never  offer.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  He  listened 
because  he  wanted  to  hear,  and  was  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity. For  the  voice  belonged  to  the  man  whom  lie 
had  had  the  encounter  with  in  Jersey  City,  when  he 
first  felt  the  influence  of  the  grey  eyes. 

It  was  the  tall  dark  escort,  wThom  she  had  called 
"  Arthur,"  and  he  was  talking  to  a  thick-necked, 
thick-shouldered,  thick-faced,  and  —  possibly  —  thick- 
headed individual,  who  appeared  —  if  Ben  could 
judge  from  what  passed, —  to  hold  Arthur  in  no  very 
high  repute. 

"I  tell  you,  Blackoat,"  said  the  thick  man,  "I  am 
in  need  of  the  money,  and  the  matter's  run  long 
enough.  You  have  been  promising,  and  promising, 
and  promising,  until  I  am  tired  of  promises  and  want 
something  more  substantial,  or  you  "go  up  "  so  sure 
as  my  name  is  Jonah !  "  And  the  namesake  of  the 


A  MYSTERY.  99 

ancient  mariner  who  "  beat  "  the  whale  out  of  forty 
days  board  and  lodgings,  brought  one  hand  down  on 
the  other  decisively. 

"  See  here,  Nipper,"  said  Blackoat,  "  don't  make  a 
fool  of  yourself.  It  might  afford  you  a  high  moral 
satisfaction  to  know  that  I  was  working  for  the  state, 
but  it  would  be  no  money  in  your  pocket.  Wait.  Be 
patient.  I  can  not  compel  her  to  marry  me,  and  in 
another  month,  if  she  continues  to  refuse  me,  I  will 
have  the  money  any  way  —  and  the  whole  of  it.'' 

"  Three  hundred  thousand  dollars  ?"  asked  Jonah. 

"  Three  hundred  thousand  dollars,"  replied  Black- 
oat.  "  I  do  not  ask  you  to  believe  me ;  go  ask  old 
Braster  if  such  is  not  the  will." 

"  Yes,  yes,  that's  all  right  enough,  but  you  are  not 
keeping  up  to  our  agreement,  Blackoat,"  replied  Jo- 
nah. "  You  told  me  you'd  marry  and  settle  with  me 
before  August,  and  here  it  is  September.  It  won't 
do.  I'm  getting  no  interest  on  my  money,"  and  this 
modern  Jonah,  whom  Mr.  Blackoat  would  have  been 
so  pleased  to  throw  overboard  and  have  a  whale  swal- 
low, even  if  it  did  set  wise  theologians  by  the  ears  for 
the  next  three  thousand  years,  stamped  his  foot. 

"  How  much  interest  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  the 
other. 

"  One  thousand  dollars  a  month,  until  paid,  is  lit- 
tle enough,"  answered  Nipper. 

"  Oh,  now  the  cat's  out  of  .the  bag.  That's  what 
brought  you  on  here,  is  it  ?  "  cried  Blackoat.  "  I 
will  not  give  it !  I  will  not !  " 

"  That  settles  it,"  replied  Nipper  quietty,  and  turn- 
ing on  his  heel  professed  to  be  about  to  walk  away, 
when  the  other  grasped  his  arm. 


100  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  See  here,  Nipper,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  supplica- 
tion, "  be  reasonable." 

Nipper  turned  in  a  positive  manner,  and  replied  in 
a  positive  manner  that  admitted  no  protests  : 

"  Blackoat  it's  forgery  !  You  pay  me  one  thousand 
dollars  a  month  for  the  privilege  of  remaining  out  of 
states  prison.  You  will  either  agree  to  that,  and  give 
me  notes  for  it  this  very  night,  or  I  will  sacrifice 
twenty  thousand  dollars  to  see  you  get  your  just  de- 
serts. You  know  me." 

Alas,  Mr.  Arthur  Blackoat  did  know  him,  and  knew 
him  only  too  well.  He  knew  that  this  namesake  of 
the  original  whaler  could  sacrifice  twenty  thousand 
dollars  and  still  have  many  thousand  left.  He  also 
knew  that  he  would  do  it  if  so  inclined.  Therefore 
he  remarked  in  a  dejected  voice  : 

"  Nipper,  it's  the  meanest  piece  of  work  I  ever 
heard  of.  You  knew  of  the  stipulations  of  that  will, 
and  bought  up  those  notes  on  speculation,  and  the 
face  value  would  well  repay  the  investment.  It's 
the  —  " 

"  See  here,  no  more  of  this,  Blackoat,"  sternly  in- 
terrupted the  holder  of  the  notes.  "  Plow  I  came  by 
the  paper  is  my  business.  That  I  do  hold  them,  and 
in  them  have  the  power  to  send  you  to  prison  and  ruin 
your  chances  to  get  one  cent  of  the  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  is  enough  for  you  to  know.  Will 
you  do  as  I  demand  ?  Answer  yes  or  no  ?  " 

"  It's  an  outrage,  but  I'll  have  to  submit,"  replied 
Blackoat,  angrily.  "  Come  to  the  Monongahela  House 
and  I  will  give  you  my  notes  for  it,"  and  Mr.  Black- 
oat turned  toward  his  hotel,  with  Mr.  Nipper  quietly 
walking  beside  him. 


A  MYSTERY.  101 

Ben  was  about  to  leave  the  friendly  shade  that  had 
hidden  him,  when  a  small,  lithe  figure  sprang  from  the 
shed  through  an  aperture  made  by  a  loosened  board. 
This  new  party  on  the  scene  gazed  earnestly  after  tire 
two  retreating  men  ;  shook  his  clenched  hand  at  them 
and  muttered,  "  I'll  have  you  yet !  I'll  have  you 
yet !  "  Then  turned  and  ran  swiftly  away  in  an  op- 
posite direction.  Ben  was  so  astonished  that  before 
he  could  call  out,  the  flying  form  was  lost  in  the  dusk 
of  the  night. 

It  was  Tommy. 

As  he  slowly  wended  his  steps  down  Duquesne  Way 
to  the  great  tramp  resort  he  cogitated  upon  the  even- 
ing's developments.  And  the  result  of  his  reflections 
was  that  there  was  a  mystery  connecting  the  owner 
of  the  glorious,  grey  eyes  with  Arthur  Blackoat,  who 
in  turn  was  likewise  connected  with  the  thick  man, 
Nipper,  (who  was  evidently  the  latter's  Jonah)  and 
Blackoat  in  his  turn  was  somehow  connected  with  his 
little  friend  Tommy.  But  this  was  as  far  as  he  got. 
What  the  mystery  was  he  could  not  surmise,  and  as 
he  was  not  a  very  imaginative  young  fellow,  he  con- 
tented himself  with  the  reflection  that  "  Time  tells 
all  things,"  and  hoped  Time  would  not  neglect  its 
business  in  this  instance. 

'*  Well,"  said  Ben,  as  he  looked  up  at  a  somewhat 
pretentious  three  story  brick  building,  fronting  on  the 
Alleghany  river,  "  they  have  provided  a  pretty  re- 
spectable-looking hotel  for  us  people  of  the  foot  path, 
any  way." 

A  short  flight  of  stone  steps  led  np  to  a  broad  hall 
way,  that  entered  a  spacious,  well-lighted  office. 


102  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"Well  dressed  men  were  lounging  about,  and  passing 
in  and  out,  the  same  as  at  any  other  hotel. 

"  Indeed,"  thought  our  hero,  "  this  is  a  new  depar- 
ture in  tramping.  How  well  they  dress  and  how  com- 
fortable they  appear  to  be."  To  make  no  mistake  he 
stepped  up  to  a  group  of  three  men  lounging  over  an 
iron  railing.  Their  tatterdemalion  attire,  and  general 
air  of  conglomerate  dirt  and  rngs,  denoted  them  to  be 
the  bona  fide  article. 

"  Recent  arrivals,  probably,  who  have  not  yet  had 
time  to  recuperate  under  the  beneficent  influences  of 
the  '  home,'  "  thought  he. 

"  Is  this  the  Young  Men's  Home,  the  place  where 
they  take  in  strangers  ?  "  he  asked. 

Yes.  There  was  where  they  took  in  strangers. 
He  had  struck  the  right  spot.  He  was  to  go  right  in 
and  register  at  the  office. 

Ben  entered  without  noticing  that  the  three  tatter- 
demalions ranged  themselves  on  the  sidewalk  where 
they  could  get  a  good  view  of  the  interior,  each  hav- 
ing a  face  illumined  by  a  broad  grin  of  expectancy. 

The  office  was  a  spacious,  steam  heated  apartment. 
Ben  boldly  affixed  the  name  of  "  B.  Cleveland,  New 
York  City,"  to  the  register,  and  the  polite  clerk  asked 
him  if  he  had  had  supper.  Replying  in  the  neg- 
ative, he  was  informed  that  supper  was  still  in  pro- 
gress, and  pointed  out  the  dining  hall.  But  as  he 
turned  his  steps  toward  the  designated  door,  the  po- 
lite clerk  called  to  him  : 

"  One  moment,  if  you  please,  sir.  Have  you  any 
baggage  ?  " 

"  No  sir,"  replied  Ben  in  surprise. 


A   MYSTEKY.  103 

"  It  is  our  invariable  rule  to  ask  a  settlement  in 
advance  from  those  who  have  no  baggage,"  said  the 
polite  clerk. 

"  Settlement !"  exclaimed  Ben  growing  red  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair ;  "  why  I  thought  this  was  a 
charity  ! " 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  clerk,  "  you  are  in  the  wrong 
pew.  Step  around  in  the  alley,  and  enter  the  first 
door  to  the  right." 

As  Ben  retreated  his  feelings  were  not  improved  by 
an  audible  titter  indulged  in  by  the  loungers  present. 

(And  right  here  permit  us  to  parenthetically  ask 
what  it  is  that  causes  man  to  so  enjoy  the  misery  of 
his  fellow  man  ?  Some  one  has  discovered  that  the 
pinnacle  of  human  happiness  is  based  upon  the  mis- 
eries of  others.  Is  it  so  ?  A  drunken  man  reels, 
falls  and  breaks  his  nose.  We  laugh.  A  poor,  pov- 
erty-stricken, hungry,  ragged  wretch  is  driven  from  a 
door.  We  laugh.  A  fellow  mortal  makes  a  mistake 
that  causes  him  intense  mortification  and  suffering. 
We  laugh.  What  causes  us  to  do  all  this  laughing  at 
the  troubles  of  others  ?  ) 

On  the  sidewalk  Ben  was  met  by  the  three  bona 
fides,  rubbing  their  hands  in  high  glee. 

"  What  did  he  tell  you?  What  did  he  say  ?  Did 
you  gin  him  a  racket  ?  He  won't  take  it,  he  won't. 
Ha,  ha ! "  and  the  three  were  very  merry,  it  after- 
wards appearing  that  the  sending  of  fresh  tramps  into 
the  hotel  office  to  annoy  the  clerk,  was  an  aesthetic 
diversion  peculiarly  acceptable  to  the  trio. 

The  "  entrance  in  the  alley  "  proved  to  be  quite  a 
different  affair.  In  a  narrow,  little  landing,  —  highly 


104  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

perfumed  with  the  odors  of  rum,  tobacco,  and  dirt  in 
general, — Ben's  age,  name,  nativity,  trade  and  con- 
dition of  life  were  taken  down  in  a  big  book  by  a  man 
who  occupied  a  small  rough  board  office,  and  held 
communications  with  the  outer  world  through  a  dim- 
inutive pigeon  hole.  Having  furnished  the  desired 
information,  our  hero  was  presented  with  a  meal  ticket, 
and  informed  that  the  hospitalities  of  the  "  Home  " 
were  extended  to  him  for  three  days,  if  he  could  not 
sooner  find  employment,  after  which  he  would  have 
to  provide  for  himself  and  pay  the  transient  rates  of 
five  cents  per  meal  and  ten  cents  for  lodging. 

These  preliminaries  having  been  gone  through  with, 
he  ascended  a  flight  of  narrow  stairs,  and  was  ushered 
into  the  greatest  tramp  resort  in  the  United  States,  and 
probably  the  best  patronized  in  the  world. 


THE  GREAT  TRAMP  RENDEZVOUS.      105 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  GREAT  TRAMP  RENDEZVOUS. 

A  LARGE  bare  room,  steam  heated  and  furnished 
with  several  long  tables  and  benches,  was  al- 
ready filled  by  nearly  three  hundred  tramps.  They 
formed  a  motley  crowd.  Old  and  young,  of  numer- 
ous nationalities  and  every  degree  of  raggedness  and 
trampdom  were  there.  Young  novices,  just  entering 
upon  this  degraded  life.  Occasionals  —  working  men 
to-day,  tramps  to-morrow,  and  drunkards  at  all  times. 
Professionals,  who  preferred  mendicancy  to  honest  la- 
bor. Honest  men,  reduced  by  dire  misfortunes  to 
this  sore  distress.  Sick  men,  whose  hold  upon  life 
was  waxing  faint.  Scorbutic  men,  bearing  on  their 
face  and  persons  the  indelible  marks  that  outraged 
nature  had  branded  them  with,  for  life.  Sad  men, 
who  felt  the  degradation  of  their  position.  Bold, 
callous  men,  for  whom  this  world  held  no  shame  ;  and 
men  whose  deportment  denoted  that  they  had  seen 
better  days,  and  could  not  forget  them,  were  all  gath- 
ered there  in  a  heterogenous  mass  of  rags,  hunger, 
dirt,  and  profanity. 

No  notice  was  taken  of  Ben's  advent  amone:  them. 


100  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Indeed  he  was  immediately  swallowed  up  in  the  crowd, 
the  members  of  which  were  variously  engaged.  Some 
paced  up  and  down  the  floor,  in  lonely  communion 
with  their  own  thoughts.  Some  were  seated  by  the 
wall  patching  their  garments,  and  sewing  up  rents ; 
some  reading,  others  tossing  coppers,  and  others  asleep 
in  all  the  hubbub  and  Babel  of  voices.  Gathered  in 
groups  were  men  discussing  the  events  of  the  day,  or 
mapping  out  routes  for  future  travel.  What  struck 
Ben  as  singular  was  the  fact  that  there  were  very  few 
old  men  present.  Nearly  all  were  young  or  in  the 
vigor  of  manhood.  He  did  not  see  but  one  or  two 
old  u  war-horses  "  and  they  moodily  held  themselves 
aloof  from  the  crowd.  There  was  a  hot,  fetid  air  in 
the  room,  and  his  stomach  sickened  at  this  expression 
of  the  life  he  had  adopted. 

A  word  of  explanation  relative  to  this  great  tramp 
"  home "  will  not  be  amiss.  It  was  built  by  the 
contributions  of  generous  citizens  of  Pittsburg  as  an 
asylum  for  the  homeless  wanderer.  A  place  where 
he  might  rest  and  recuperate,  while  he  sought  em- 
ployment. One  would  naturally  suppose  that  those 
partaking  of  the  charity  would  be  grateful,  but  the 
tramps  are  not.  A  man  with  authority  is  continually 
emplo}red  in  preserving  the  peace  among  them,  and  a 
more  ungrateful,  querulous,  quarrelsome  lot  of  misery 
it  would  be  hard  to  conceive. 

The  building,  which  is  a  large  one,  is  divided  into 
two  departments  :  —  the  "  Hotel  "  and  Ci  Bum  "  sides 
of  the  house,  as  they  are  locally  known.  The  "  Bum  " 
side  consists  of  a  single  large  hall,  located  in  the  rear, 
and  separated  entirely  from  the  remainder  of  the 


THE   GTJEAT   TRAMP   RENDEZVOUS.  107 

the  house.  The  "pay"  department,  is  a  well  ar- 
ranged, well  furnished,  and  well  conducted  hotel, 
principally  patronized  by  permanent  guests  having  oc- 
cupations in  the  cit}-.  The  proceeds  of  the  "  Hotel " 
are  supposed  to  be  devoted  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
"  Bum  "  department.  "Bummers  Hall"  has  an  av- 
erage nightly  attendance  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
impecunious  men  every  night  in  the  year.  Sometimes 
the  number  reaches  to  near  four  hundred.  Statistics 
are  kept  of  the  attendance.  Single  men  predominate, 
being  above  eighty  per  cent  of  those  seeking  the  ref- 
uge. The  nationalities  represented  stand  in  the  fol- 
lowing order  as  to  numbers :  Ireland,  Germany, 
America  and  England ;  though  all  Europe  has  dele- 
gates in  "  Bummers  Hall."  It  has  been  often  ques- 
tioned if  the  resort  be  not  a  detriment  to  the  city,  and 
an  inducement  for  the  fraternity  to  rendezvous  there. 
But  this  is  not  good  reasoning.  The  tramps  would 
come  whether  the  "  Home  "  was  there  to  receive  them 
or  no ;  and  it  is  far  better  to  have  two  hundred  and 
fifty  impecunious  —  and  frequently  lawless  and  reck- 
less men  —  stowed  safely  away  at  night,  than  have 
them  thrown  loose  upon  the  city.  It  is  a  difficult 
matter  to  make  tramping  a  crime,  for  it  would  make 
poverty  criminal.  The  suggestion  that  jails  and  work 
houses  receive  them  is  pernicious  in  the  extreme. 
Reformatory  institutions  turn  out  finished  law-break- 
ers. They  generally  reform  a  man  of  what  little  good 
there  may  be  in  him  when  he  enters  them.  The  great 
majority  of  tramps  have  not  the  nerve  to  commit  a 
crime,  though  they  had  the  inclination.  They  are  a 
poor,  weak,  purposeless,  cowardly  set  of  vagabonds, 


108  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

whose  most  henious  offence  consists  in  "jumping  "  a 
train,  or,  perhaps,  purloining  some  trifle  of  food. 
They  bhrink  from  committing  acts  that  will  bring 
them  before  that  terror  of  terrors,  a  police  court. 
But  a  term  in  the  state's  prison  or  work  house  turns 
out  quite  a  different  individual.  As  tramps  they 
still  have  latent  hopes  (however  futile)  of  some 
day  recovering  a  membership  in  good  society.  As 
prison  graduates,  this  hope  has  left  them,  and  they 
look  viciously  upon  life.  As  an  evidence  of  this, 
it  will  be  found  that  three-quarters  of  the  tramps 
arrested  for  unlawful  acts,  are  released  convicts. 

There  is  a  great  hue  and  cry  raised  every  now  and 
then  about  "  what  shall  we  do  with  them?  "  Better, 
if  we  turn  our  attentions  to  the  cause  that  produces 
the  effects,  and  ask  ourselves  "  what  shall  we  do  with 
the  system  that  makes  them  ?  " 

Ben  had  scarcely  time  to  look  about  and  familiarize 
himself  with  the  place,  when  supper  was  announced. 
It  consisted  of  a  tin  dish  of  soup  and  a  piece  of  bread, 
and  was  served  up  on  the  long  table  in  the  center  of 
the  room.  The  soup  was  of  the  "  bouillon  "  order. 
In  it  were  sliced  carrots,  stewed  potatoes,  boiled  po- 
tato peelings,  baked  fish,  chicken  bones,  salt  mackerel, 
cabbage,  tomatoes,  cheese,  beef,  beans,  dried  apples, 
vegetable  parings,  and  a  few  other  articles.  To  the 
imaginative  mind  it  suggested  the  possibility  of  a 
small  grocery  store  having  gone  off  on  a  drunk,  and 
got  drowned  in  a  cauldron  of  boiling  water.  A  more 
practical  view  of  the  matter  was  that  it  consisted  of 
the  remnants  of  the  "  Hotel  side,"  with  the  kitchen 
dish  water  generously  added,  by  way  of  a  flavor. 


THE  GREAT  TRAMP  RENDEZVOUS.      109 

Though  Ben  had  fasted  all  day,  he  declined  partak- 
ing of  it,  and  sat  toying  with  his  iron  spoon,  and  no- 
ticing the  other  guests.  .They. had  not  his  squeamish- 
ness.  The  greater  portion  of  the  three  hundred  were 
devoting  a  majesty  of  jaw  bone  to  the  work  before 
them,  highly  edifying. 

"  The  soup  is  extra  to-night,"  remarked  a  veteran, 
as  he  fished  up  a  mass  that  might  have  been  fish,  flesh 
or  fowl. 

"Excellent!"  responded  a  neighbor;  "the  best 
I've  tasted  since  leaving  the  rotisseries  in  the  Rue  de 
Gumbo  !  " 

"  I'll  wait  fur  the  toorkey  wid  the  ister  stufnin'," 
remarked  another  who  had  finished  his  pan. 

"  Yez'll  have  to  wait,  thin,  for  it's  Friday,  an' 
there's  no  toorkey.  It'll  be  trout  an'  salmon,  the 
day,"  returned  a  gentleman  whose  ragged  sleeve  had 
evidently  enjoyed  the  soup  in  company  with  its  owner. 

"  What  part  of  the  fowl  do  you  prefer,  sir  ?  "  asked 
a  polite  tramp,  tendering  Ben  a  section  of  a  macker- 
el's back. 

"  Let  the  gentleman  alone.  The  venison  he  had 
for  dinner  did  not  agree  with  him,"  said  a  thin  man, 
eyeing  Ben's  untasted  soup  longingly.  Ben  saw  the 
soup  and  presented  him  the  panful,  which  made  the 
thin  man  an  object  of  envy  to  all  in  that  vicinity. 

"  Didn't  I  see  you  in  Poverty  Barn,  in  Cleveland  ?  " 
asked  a  fat,  asthmatic  tramp  of  Ben. 

Our  friend  replied  in  the  negative,  when  the  asth- 
matic went  into  a  glowing  description  of  the  magnifi- 
cence of  "  Poverty  Barn,  in  Cleveland." 

"  It's  behind  the  police  station,  Sor.     Bunks  three 


110  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

tier  high,  Sor.  A  plank  set  on  edge  for  a  pillow  in 
each  of  them,  Sor.  A  big  stove  that  you  can  dry 
your  clothes  at,  Sor.  There's  no  knob  on  the  inside 
of  the  door,  Sor.  So  when  you  get  in  you  can't  get 
out,  Sor.  It's  a  good  hangup,  but  no  chuck,  Sor. 
When  you're  in  Cleveland  don't  fail  to  give  it  a  call, 
Sor.  It's  deserving  of  patronage,  Sor." 

Ben  assured  him  that  Poverty  Barn  should  have 
his  custom  if  business  took  him  to  Cleveland." 

"  To  hell  mit  Boverty  Parn !  I  preaks  my  neck 
from  vone  of  der  punks  down  comma,  von  night. 
Youst,  when  you  go  mit  Cleveland,  youst  try  der  iron 
vorks  an'  shleep  in  der  varm  sandt !  "  kindly  advised 
a  gentleman  having  a  pronounced  Teutonic  accent. 

With  much  similar  conversation,  the  meal  drew  to 
a  close,  the  pans  were  removed,  and  the  long  table 
turned,  bottom-up,  against  the  wall ;  so  that  having 
banqueted  off  of  the  top  side  they  might  sleep  on  the 
bottom.  The  benches  were  then  arranged  across  the 
room,  and  an  elderly  gentleman  in  black,  with  a  cler- 
ical stock  about  his  neck,  (who  was  irreverently 
greeted  as  "  Old  Blue  Blazes  "  )  entered  at  a  side 
door,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  hall,  and  proceeded  to 
hold  religious  services.  A  more  orderly  and  attentive 
congregation  than  the  three  hundred  tramps  composed, 
could  not  have  been  desired.  This  evening  service 
was  as  much  a  part  of  the  charity  as  the  soup,  and 
should  it  have  been  omitted  they  would  have  felt 
themselves  defrauded.  Cards,  with  the  popular  re- 
vival hymns  of  the  day  printed  on  them,  were  distrib- 
uted through  the  crowd,  and  they  lustily  sang  u  Hold 
the  Fort !  "  and  "  Pull  for  the  Shore  !  " 


THE  GREAT  TBAMP  RENDEZVOUS.      Ill 

The  services  concluded,  preparations  were  made  for 
retiring.  Some  of  the  fastidious  (generally  the  most 
ragged)  spread  a  newspaper  on  the  floor  to  keep  their 
clothes  from  getting  soiled.  Others  contented  them- 
selves with  scraping  a  place  free  from  tobacco  quids, 
and  retired  with  their  boots  for  a  pillow. 

There  was  one  devotion  peculiar  to  nearly  all  pre- 
vious to  closing  their  eyes.  Everyone  indulged  in  a 
good  scratch  !  That  great  luxury  that  no  unfeeling 
world  could  dispossess  them  of  so  long  as  they  had 
their  hands.  And  such  scratching  !  Such  contortions 
in  getting  way  round  at  their  backs  ;  such  grunts  and 
sighs  of  satisfaction  as  both  hands  would  be  vigor- 
ously applied  to  opposite  extremities  !  And  then  the 
inventions  of  genius  —  rubbing  the  back  against  a 
table  leg  while  employing  the  hands  elsewhere;  and 
using  a  foot  and  both  hands  at  the  same  time  !  And 
such  courtesies  —  one  scratching  the  unreachable  por- 
tion of  another,  and  three  and  four  scratching  each 
other  in  a  row  !  Ben  was  about  the  only  one  present 
who  did  not  scratch,  and  when  a  neighbor  asked  him 
to  rub  his  back  with  the  sole  of  his  boot  he  could  not 
refuse  the  kindness ;  so  while  he  did  not  scratch  him-* 
self,  he  aided  others.  Let  him  awake  at  what  hour 
of  the  night  he  might,  there  was  scratching  going 
forward  in  some  parts  of  the  hall.  Before  daybreak, 
however,  he  found  it  congenial  to  commence  upon 
himself,  and  it  took  the  closest  application  and  indus- 
try of  search  and  slaughter,  during  the  leisure  mo- 
ments of  two  succeeding  days,  to  prevent  him  from 
becoming  a  confirmed  scratcher. 


112  A  TIGHT  SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

INTRODUCES   THE  EVANGELIST. 

THAT  night  was  a  memorable  one  for  Ben.  It  is 
not  often  that  a  man  lies  down  to  sleep,  in  full 
sight  and  hearing  of  three  hundred  of  his  fellow  mor- 
tals ;  not  to  mention  three  hundred  with  such  peculiar 
characteristics  as  separate  the  genus  tramp  from,  the 
rest  of  God's  creation. 

Ben  reclined  on  a  hand  and  elbow,  wide  awake, 
listening  to  the  various  noises  proceeding  from  the 
sleepers.  Snores,  grunts,  exclamations,  curses,  prayer, 
laughter  and  writhing  proceeded  from  the  bodies  la- 
boring under  Dame  Nature's  mild  anaesthetic.  While 
so  listening,  a  tall,  thin  figure  approached  him.  It 
was  a  pale,  long-faced  young  man,  who  had  an  air  of 
dilapidated  gentility  about  him,  that  was  in  unison 
with  his  intelligent,  but  care-worn,  face.v  Noticing 
Ben's  wakefulness,  he  said: 

"  I  see  that  you,  like  myself,  cannot  sleep.  What 
a  pen  of  human  swine  it  is  ! "  and  he  seated  himself 
beside  our  friend. 

"  Which  way  are  you  travelling  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  I  go  west  in  the  morning.  Which  direction  are 
you  tailing?" 


INTRODUCES    THE   EVANGELIST.  113 

"I  am  going  to  St.  Louis,"  answered  Cleveland. 

"  Very  well,  we  will  go  together.  That  suits  me. 
I  thought  it  would  be  easiest  to  get  011  a  coal  fleet  and 
go  down  the  river  with  it,  but  I  find  the  fleet  is  hung 
up  here  for  want  of  water,  and  there  is  no  telling 
when  the  river  will  raise.  So  we  had  best  take  the 
road  for  it,"  observed  the  stranger. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  to  St.  Louis?  "  inquired  Ben. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  he,  "  several  times." 

"  Tramped  it  ?  " 

"  Tramped  it." 

"But,"  hesitatingly  suggested  Ben,  "you appear  to 
be  a  man  of  intelligence,  I  should  think  you  could  do 
better  than  leading  the  life  of  a  tramp." 

"  Think  nothing  of  the  sort,"  responded  the  stran- 
ger. "  A  man  in  this  world  does  just  what  he  is  fitted 
for.  Habits,  that  I  need  not  specify,  have  drifted  me 
into  this  life,  and  I  am  becoming  confirmed  in  it." 

"  But  do  you  not  struggle  against  it. 

"  Yes,  I  do  struggle,  but  each  struggle  is  weaker 
and  weaker,  and  shorter  and  shorter.  You  appear  to 
be  above  the  average  tramp,  and  as  we  are  to  travel 
together,  I'll  tell  you  some  of  my  history  without  ask- 
ing any  of  your  own  in  return.  I  had  a  fair  educa- 
tion and  studied  for  the  ministry.  Until  my  mother 
died  (and  at  mention  of  that  sacred  name  of  mother 
his  voice  softened)  I  had  something  to  live  for,  some 
one  to  make  proud  of  me.  But  on  her  death  I  was 
left  alone  in  life,  and  though  homage  comes  from  all 
the  world,  it  can  not  give  a  mother's  praise.  With  a 
naturally  unstable  disposition  I  took  to  rambling,  and 
I  have  been  rambling  ever  since." 


114  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  And  do  you  never  try  to  settle  down  ;  never  at- 
tempt anything  permanent  ?  "  persisted  Ben. 

"  Oh  yes,"  returned  the  other  with  a  laugh ;  "  I 
have  been  reporter,  auctioneer,  teamster,  raftsman, 
railroader,  clerk,  stable-hand,  and  Evangelist !  " 

"  Evangelist !  "  exclaimed  Cleveland. 

"  Yes,"  replied  he,  and  immediately  the  "  tramp  " 
presented  itself;  "  don't  you  know  the  racket.  Lots 
of  the  boys  made  a  stake  at  it  last  year.  It's  the 
Moody  business  gave  them  a  starter.  First  they 
evangelized  themselves  and  then  started  out  to  evan- 
gelize others,  with  a  weather  eye  out  for  financial 
matters." 

Ben  was  horrified !  He  had  attended  the  Hippo- 
drome meetings  and  been  greatly  impressed  with  the 
work  of  the  revivalists,  and  had  never  connected  a 
mercenary  thought  with  them.  This  new  develop- 
ment of  using  revivals  for  money  making  purposes 
grated  harshly  on  his  feelings,  and  so  he  expressed 
himself. 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  asked  the  Evangelist.  "  People 
are  willing  to  pay  well  for  being  led  to  the  devil,  why 
should  they  not  pay  to  be  started  on  the  road  to 
Heaven  ?  It  is  singular  that  men  should  honor 
money-making  by  all  methods  except  the  saving  of 
their  souls." 

"  But  are  the  Evangelists  engaged  in  money-mak- 
ing ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  To  an  extent  —  certainly.  Why  not  ?  It  is  dis- 
honest ?  Look-a-here,  why  don't  you  view  this  mat- 
ter practically  ?  What's  the  use  of  giving  it  a  ficti- 
tious reputation?  Is  it  dishonest?  No.  Why 


DTTKODUCES   THE  EVANGELIST.  115 

should  not  men  make  money  in  doing  good  as  well  as 
in  doing  evil  ?  Oh  why  should  there  be  auy  attempt 
to  disguise  the  matter  ?  There  is  where  the  mistake 
is  made,  for  it  gives  to  good  works  a  taint  of  decep- 
tion. Do  you  for  a  moment  suppose  the  world  does 
not  see  under  the  cloak  of  a  '  call '  the  greed  of  gain ! 
Why  not  be  open  and  above  board  and  say,  '  We  do 
this  good  for  money '  ?  Is  honesty  a  crime  ?  Indeed 
I  half  believe  it  is.  When  I  started  as  an  Evange- 
list, I  fixed  a  fair  remuneration  for  my  services,  and 
demanded  it  the  same  as  I  would  wages  for  any  other 
work.  What  was  the  result.  I  was  called  mercen- 
ary, and  people  said  I  not  only  laborized  for  the  good 
of  my  fellow  man,  but  for  the  good  of  my  pocket 
also.  I  was  fool  enough  to  acknowledge  it,  and 
shortly  found  my  services  no  longer  in  demand.  Nat- 
urally I  changed  my  tactics.  I  no  longer  asked  a 
stipulated  remuneration.  I  was  not  after  money. 
But  quietly  determined  that  money  should  be  after 
me.  The  result  was  I  received  more  in  contributions 
than  I  ever  could  have  obtained  in  wages.  Do  you 
think  people  were  not  aware  of  my  object  just  the 
same,  because  I  did  not  make  a  demand  ?  Perhaps 
you  will  learn,  as  you  journey  through  life,  that  all 
the  world  wears  a  mask,  and  though  the  mask  may  be 
transparent,  it  is  highly  impolitic  to  ask  its  removal. 
Humanity  is  an  dfetrich,  with  its  head  in  a  sxand- 
bank ! " 

"  Did  you  make  it  pay  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  paid  well  enough." 

"  Why  did  you  not  stick  to  it  then  ?  " 

The  brows  of  the  dilapidated  cynic  contracted  as 
he  responded : 


116  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  Because  from  a  child  I  have  been  unable  to  stick 
to  anything.  There  is  no  permanency  in  me.  I  am 
as  shifting  as  running  water.  There,  there  ;  you 
need  not  ask  why  I  do  not  school  myself  to  more 
stable  habits  ;  as  I  am,  I  am ;  and  be  it  fault  or  mis- 
fortune, so  it  is." 

Ben's  mental  eye  looked  upon  his  new  acquain- 
tance through  a  fog.  He  could  not  understand  him. 
At  the  same  time  the  thought  suggested  itself  to 
him  :  "  What  a  purposeless,  objectless  life  !  What 
if  my  own  should  shape  itself  to  such  a  result !  "  and 
then  the  more  encouraging  reflection  came  to  him : 
"  Better  a  tramp,  with  a  New  Orleans  to  be  attained, 
than  a  Ben  Cleveland  dozing  life  away  on  Smythe's 
lawn." 

His  new  acquaintance  having  relieved  himself  of 
an  over  load  of  c}rnicism  proved  to  be  a  pleasant  con- 
versationalist, and  a  well  informed  man.  He  was 
apparently  a  harmless  creature,  placed  on  earth 
to  fill  up  one  of  the  chinks  in  its  great  social  struc- 
ture. 

The  breakfast  in  the  morning  was  a  repetition  of 
the  previous  evening's  supper,  save  that  the  soup  had 
fewer  odds  and  ends  in  it.  Though  Ben  had  refused 
the  article  the  night  before  he  found  himself  eating 
heartily  of  it  at  the  breakfast  table,  greatly  to  the  dis- 
appointment of  the  thin  man,  who  had  purposely  se- 
cured a  seat  next  to  him,  with  hopes  based  on  his 
good  fortune  at  the  supper  table.  Alas,  they  were 
delusive  ones.  Ben  cleaned  out  his  pan,  and  felt  sub- 
stantially full. 

In  company  with  the  Evangelist  he  made  his  way 


INTRODUCES  THE   EVANGELIST.  117 

to  the  city  of  Alleghany,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river  of  that  name,  and  there  the  two  had  a  council 
of  war.  It  was  finally  agreed  that  they  should  walk 
that  day,  and  reach  some  point  where  a  train  could  be 
boarded  during  the  evening.  Accordingly  they  fol- 
lowed the  track  that'  borders  the  Ohio,  until  within 
an  hour  of  sunset,  when  they  found  themselves  near 
the  town  of  Economy  ;  a  settlement  of  industrious 
Germans  who  are  trying  so  to  live  that  the  transition 
from  life  to  death  will  be  hardly  noticeable,  save  that 
it  causes  the  reflection  that  for  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses they  might  as  well  have  been  born  dead.  It  is 
a  communal  settlement,  and  propagation  is  unknown. 
By  strict  frugality,  industry  and  the  natural  growth 
of  wealth  much  money  has  been  amassed,  and  the 
riches  undoubtedly  give  them  all  the  enjoyment  of 
possession.  One  of  these  days  when  the  last  Econo- 
mist shall  have  departed  for  Eternity,  with  his  shekel 
done  up  in  a  napkin,  there  will  be  a  delightful  hub- 
bub over  the  ownership  of  the  thousands  they  have 
accumulated. 

Before  reaching  the  settlement  our  travellers  were 
met  by  a  lone  tramp,  on  his  way  to  New  York  City, 
for  the  purpose  of  viewing  the  abutments  of  the  East 
River  bridge.  He  had  heard  and  read  so  much  about 
that  structure,  while  summering  in  the  vicinity  of 
St.  Paul,  that  his  curiosity  was  aroused,  and  he  thought 
to  have  a  look  at  it. 

"  I  have  not  come  from  Minnesota  direct,"  he  ex- 
plained; "I  went  to  St.  Louis  to  see  the  bridge  Eads 
built  so  as  I  could  compare  the  two.  I  takes  a  great 
interest  in  public  works,  and  more  'specially  engi- 


118  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

neering.  Sometimes  I  think  I'd  a  made  a  good  bridge 
builder  myself,  but  I  served  my  time  in  a  bakery,  and 
never  had  no  inclination  for  bread,  'cept  to  eat  it." 
He  might  further  have  stated  that  being  a  gentleman 
of  impecunious  leisure,  and  time  not  being  money 
with  him,  he  had  all  the  advantages  necessary  for  in- 
dulging his  penchant  for  investigating  public  works. 

"  You're  near  Economy  now,"  he  continued,  "  and 
you  can  stop  over  night  with  the  '  brothers.'  I'll  tell 
you  how  you  can  do  it.  Old  '  brother '  Eapp  will 
meet  you  and  he'll  say  '  no.'  Then  you  just  ask  him 
to  give  you  a  few  matches,  and  when  he  asks  what  for, 
say  it's  to  build  a  fire  and  cook  you  something  to  eat 
and  sleep  by,  and  you'll  see  how  quick  he'll  ask  you 
to  come  in  and  stop.  So  long."  And  the  tourist 
again  resumed  his  way  toward  the  East  River  bridge. 
Ben  and  his  comrade  had  no  intention  of  remaining 
over  night  in  Economy,  however.  They  took  supper 
there  though,  being  hospitably  received  arid  treated 
to  plenty  of  fresh  coarse  bread,  cheese  and  smoked 
sausage,  the  latter  so  hard  that  it  would  have  made  a 
dent  in  an  oak  plank.  Politely  thanking  their  enter- 
tainers *they  resumed  the  track  in  the  balmy  dusk  of 
evening,  listening  to  Nature's  vesper  hymn. 

Along  the  roadway,  and  from  swamp  and  pasture 
and  woodland,  came  the  chorus  of  a  million  throats. 
The  deep  base  of  some  old  patriarchal  serenader 
heightened  the  treble  of  the  noisy  newts.  Afar  off 
the  tinkle  of  a  cow  bell  floated  softly  over  the  hills ; 
the  rustling  of  dried  leaves  ;  the  snapping  of  a  fallen 
bough  :  the  owl's  whoop  from  out  his  hermit  dell ; 
the  beetle's  never  changing  drone  ;  the  call  of  katy- 


INTRODUCES  THE^EVANGP:LIST.  119 

did,  and  the  mournful  notes  of  the  whip-poor-will,  all 
mingled  in  the  evening  service  ;  and  the  heart  of  Ben 
stopped  to  listen,  and  all  the  sophistry,  cynicism  and 
doubtings  that  this  world  possesses,  could  not  at  that 
moment  have  prevented  him  from  thinking  that  this 
life  is  not  the  be-all  and  the  end-all,  here;  but  that 
far,  far  beyond  the  star  lit  girdle  of  earth  there  is 
another,  a  better,  and  a  purer  one. 


120  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

AN  TJNCOMFOKTABLE  NIGHT. 

THE  two  travellers  boarded  a  western  bound 
freight  train  at  Brighton.  There  being  no  ac- 
cessible box  car,  they  were  compelled  to  content  them- 
selves with  a  seat  on  the  rear  steps  of  the  caboose, 
where  they  were  discovered  and  incontinently 
"bounced"  after  being  carried  some  twenty  miles. 
Ben  thought  this  ejectment  finished  their  ride  on  that 
train,  but  the  Evangelist — whose  name  was  Horton 
—  corrected  him.  Creeping  along  in  the  shadow  of 
the  train  until  it  started,  they  again  seated  themselves 
on  the  steps.  This  time  they  made  but  ten  miles,  be- 
fore they  were  discovered,  when  some  strong  adjec- 
tives were  used,  and  some  hard  names  called,  and 
they  were  warned  if  caught  on  the  train  again  they 
would  be  dealt  with  in  a  most  summary  manner. 

"  Wait  for  another  train  !  "  exclaimed  the  Evange- 
list. "  Certainly  not  —  why  we  have  only  been 
bounced  twice  !  " 

He  instructed  Ben  to  crouch  under  the  cars  at  the 
centre  of  the  train,  and  when  it  started  walk  with  it, 
so  long  as  he  could  keep  up.  When  he  found  the  rate 


AN  UNCOMFORTABLE   NIGHT.  121 

of  speed  getting  to  much  for  him,  he  was  to  mount  a 
ladder,  but  not  put  in  appearance  on  the  roof  until 
positive  that  the  crew  was  not  around. 

The  crew  of  a  freight  train  consists  of  the  fireman 
and  engineer,  who  remain  in  the  locomotive's  cab  ;  a 
conductor  who,  while  the  train  is  in  motion,  gener- 
ally remains  in  his  caboose,  and  two  brakeman  —  front 
and  rear  —  supposed  to  remain  on  top,  but  who,  after 
the  train  has  started,  usually  betake  themselves  to  the 
engine-cab  and  caboose  respectively.  On  the  night 
runs  all  carry  lanterns,  and  through  them  their  ap- 
proach is  easily  discernible  by  the  sly  tramp.  It  will 
now  be  understood  why  Ben  was  to  delay  mounting 
to  the  top. 

Having  clung  to  the  ladder  for  some  time  he  slowly 
raised  his  head  above  the  roof  and  surveyed  the  situ- 
ation. Not  a  light  appeared  in  sight,  but  on  the  next 
car  he  saw  the  dark  outlines  of  a  man,  and  heard  the 
Evangelist  croning  to  himself  a  revival  hymn.  He 
mounted  to  the  roof,  and  both  men  sat  down  immedi- 
ately over  their  respective  ladders,  ready  to  go  down 
them  on  the  slightest  provocation.  Much  after  the 
fashion  of  prairie-dogs,  sitting  «,t  the  mouth  of  their 
holes,  prepared  at  the  faintest  disturbance  to  show  a 
clean  pair  of  heels  and  faint  Avhisk  of  a  tail.  Sev- 
eral times  during  the  ensuing  hour  the  light  of  the 
jront  brakeman  appeared  as  that  individual  attended 
to  easing  the  train  down  grades.  And  each  time  our 
two  travellers  suddenly  disappear ;  reappearing  again 
when  the  coast  was  clear.  Having  gone  about  six- 
teen miles,  the  train  side  tracked  to  allow  an  eastern- 
bound  express  to  pass.  Ben  and  his  companion 


122  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

crouched  under  the  cars  until  they  again  started, 
when  the  ladders  were  resumed  and  ultimately  the 
roof. 

This  method  of  travelling  seemed  quite  pleasant  to 
him  and  he  was  begining  to  rest  more  at  ease,  and  re- 
cline on  his  back,  when  a  note  of  warning  from  the 
Evangelist  aroused  him,  and  glancing  along  the  train 
he  perceived  lights  approaching  from  both  directions. 
The  tramps  immediately  disappeared  in  the  darkness, 
while  the  conductor  and  front  brakeman  met  on  the 
identical  car  to  which  our  friend  Ben  was  clinging. 
After  some  instructions  had  been  given  the  brakeman, 
the  political  disquietudes  of  the  day  became  a  topic 
of  conversation,  and  so  interested  did  they  become, 
that  placing  their  lanterns  on  the  roof  they  sat  down 
themselves,  to  the  intense  disgust  of  our  friend,  who 
dared  not  elevate  his  head.  Unfortunately  for  him 
the  train  was  a  through  freight  and  had  just  entered 
on  one  of  the  longest  runs  of  the  division.  The 
perch  that  had  been  comfortable  enough  for  a  short 
occupancy,  soon  became  quite  unendurable  with  the 
continued  jolting  of  the  car.  His  feet  grew  stiff  and 
and  his  hands  sore.  Besides  he  had  to  cling  close  to 
the  ladder  in  constant  terror  lest  the  timbers  of  the 
bridges  they  frequently  crossed  should  sweep  him 
off.  To  add  to  his  misery  both  of  the  train  men  were 
great  consumers  of  tobacco,  and  facing  Ben's  ladder 
they  poured  upon  his  devoted  head  a  torrent  of  to- 
bacco juice.  Moments  grew  to  the  dignity  of  hours, 
minutes  to  ages.  Never  had  he  been  so  thoroughly 
disgusted  with  politics.  He  wished  he  belonged  to  a 
despotism  where  the  discussion  of  them  was  punish- 


AN  UNCOMFORTABLE   NIGHT.  123 

able  with  death.  Not  only  dared  he  not  elevate  his 
head,  but  he  was  afraid  to  turn  his  face  skywards  at 
all,  lest  he  receive  in  the  eyes  and  mouth  a  charge  of 
the  amber  juice  that  was  being  so  liberally  bestowed 
upon  him. 

Our  hero  was  certainly  in  an  unenviable  position. 
If  he  ascended  to  the  roof  and  gave  himself  up,  the 
conductor  had  threatened  in  case  he  was  again  caught 
on  the  train  to  hand  him  over  to  the  authorities  the 
first  stop  that  was  made  ;  a  procedure  that,  under  the 
vagrant  laws  would  insure  him  ninety  days  in  the 
work  house ;  enough  to  totally  wreck  his  expectations. 
On  the  other  hand  if  he  fell  to  the  ground  he  was 
sure  to  be  either  killed  or  badly  mangled.  In  this 
sad  predicament  his  over-strained  feelings  found  vent 
in  a  groan. 

Railroad  men,  as  a  class,  are  superstitious.  There 
are  spots  along  each  crews'  route  that  are  vested  with 
supernatural  properties.  We  knew  a  practical  man 
of  good  common  sense,  an  engineer,  who  solemnly 
avers  that  on  crossing  a  certain  bridge  at  midnight,  a 
large  white  dog  always  springs  across  the  track  im- 
mediately his  engine  leaves  the  bridge.  Another 
man,  a  brakeman,  would  have  deserted  his  train 
sooner  than  omit  changing  his  lantern  three  times, 
from  his  right  hand  into  his  left,  the  first  time  he 
walked  the  train.  Whatever  it  is  in  the  human  fab- 
rication that  yearns  after  the  incomprehensible  we 
know  not ;  but  that  such  a  force  is  established  there 
is  verified  by  the  scores  of  different  religious  beliefs ; 
—  founded  on  faith  or  fancy  —  as  you  please. 

The   Administration   was  receiving   a   hearty  en- 


124  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

dorsement  from  the  conductor  when  Ben's  groan 
struck  on  his  ear.  A  sudden  silence  ensued.  The 
conductor  looked  at  the  brakeman,  and  the  brakeman 
looked  at  the  conductor.  Neither  spoke.  Another 
smothered  groan  came  floating  from  out  the  surround- 
ing darkness.  The  conductor  was  suddenly  reminded 
that  his  way  bills  needed  overhauling  and  the  brake- 
man discovered  that  his  presence  was  needed  at  the 
front  of  the  train.  Ben  was  left  master  of  the  situa- 
tion, though  unaware  of  the  influence  his  groans  had 
had  in  placing  him  there.  He  dragged  his  stiffened 
limbs  to  the  top  of  the  car,  and  indulged  in  a  luxu- 
rious rub  of  his  bespattered  countenance.  Presently 
he  was  joined  by  the  Evangelist  and  the  two  recounted 
their  experiences. 

By  constant  watchfulness  and  much  dodging  down 
the  ladders,  they  retained  possession  of  the  train  dur- 
ing the  night,  and  the  first  glimpses  of  the  morning 
sun  found  them  at  Columbus  ;  having  made  over  one 
hundred  and  twenty  miles  on  the  train  Ben  had  thought 
it  impossible  to  ride.  Stiff,  sore,  tired  and  sleepy, 
but  in  possession  of  the  satisfaction  of  having  taken 
a  long  step  on  their  journey,  our  friends  dismounted 
and  took  a  look  around  the'm.  While  they  still  stood 
by  the  train  the  conductor  passed.  He  gave  them  one 
look  of  astonishment,  and  with  the  remark,  "  Well, 
I'll  be  blowed  !  "  went  on  his  way. 

As  they  stood  staring  about  them,  not  knowing 
just  what  to  do  or  where  to  turn  their  steps,  a  man 
approached,. ringing  an  old  cow  bell.^v 

"  Just  come  in  on  the  train,  gentlemen  ?  "  asked 
this  individual  with  a  polite  bow  and  monkey-like 
grin. 


AN  UNCOMFORTABLE   NIGHT.  125 

The  travellers  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"Wish  to  put  up  at  a  hotel?  Right  this  way. 
First  cla^s  house.  Hotel  de  Log  !  On  the  European 
plan.  Patronized  by  the  elite.  Table  spread  with  all 
the  delicacies  of  the  season,  and  the  best  the  market 
affords.  My  clerk  was  out  to  a  ball  last  night,  and  I 
have  to  attend  to  the  trains  myself  this  morning. 
Any  baggage?  I'll  send  the  porter  after  it.  Just 
follow  me.  Breakfast  is  ready.  You  are  just  in  time. 
Right  this  way,  gentlemen.  Allow  me  to  carry  your 
coat,  sir."  This  last  to  Ben,  who  immediately  pro- 
fessed to  be  competent  to  carry  it  himself. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  he  of  the  cow  bell ;  u  come 
right  along.  You  gentlemen  also  "  ;  to  two  terrible 
looking  tramps,  that  it  was  afterwards  discovered  had 
been  on  the  train  all  the  way  from  Pittsburg,  riding 
bumpers  and  trucks. 

Curiosity  caused  the  travellers  to  follow  the  pro- 
prietor of  Hotel  de  Log.  He  led  them  some  distance 
down  the  track,  and  then  struck  across  an  open  field 
to  a  piece  of  scrub  timber,  traversed  by  a  brook.  A 
short  walk  in  this  patch  of  woodland  revealed  the 
hotel. 

A  giant  sycamore  had  bowed  its  aged  head  to  some 
western  tornado,  and  lay  at  length  upon  the  ground, 
parallel  with  the  brook,  and  about  a  rod  from  its 
brawling  waters.  Along  the  brook  side  of  the  tree 
were  stretched,  upon  beds  of  boughs  and  leaves  a 
dozen  or  more  men,  while  two  others  stirred  up  the 
embers  of  a  fire,  near  them.  There  were  countless 
empty  tin  cans  —  fire  scorched  and  battered  —  empty 
bottles  of  every  degree  of  gentility,  from  the  aristo- 


126  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

cratic,  thick  bellied  champagne  bottle,  down  to  the 
plebeian  blue  glass  pop,  and  an  iron  pot  or  two,  while 
rags,  bones,  and  scraps  of  cold  victuals,  littered  the 
ground  ;  and  in  the  log  stuck  a  piece  of  broken  look- 
ing-glass with  a  fragment  of  horn  comb  behind  it. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  their  guide  with  a  courteous 
wave  of  the  cow  bell,  "  allow  me  j  The  Hotel  de  Log! 
Make  yourselves  to  home." 


THE   HOTEL  DE  LOG.  127 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE  HOTEL   DE  LOG. 

BEN  and  the  Evangelist  broke  out  in  a  roar  of 
laughter,  that  caused  one  of  the  sleepers  to 
awake  and  murmur  a  protest,  and  the  proprietor  of 
the  "  Hotel "  to  request  them  to  suppress  their  hilar- 
ity lest  they  disturb  some  of  the  sleepers  on  the  ground 
floor. 

So  our  travellers  bottled  up  their  mirth  and  pro- 
ceeded to  make  themselves  at  home,  by  taking  a  sleep 
that  their  exhausted  natures  loudly  demanded.  Hav- 
ing secured  apartments  near  the  fire,  they  scraped 
away  such  articles  as  encumbered  the  ground,  and 
gathering  together  some  leaves  and  branches  for  beds, 
were  soon  lost  in  a  sound  slumber. 

The  proprietor  of  the  Hotel  de  Log  was  quite  a 
character.  He  was  a  professional  tramp  and  journey- 
man painter,  who,  being  of  a  sociable  turn  of  mind, 
had  found  congenial  pastime  in  establishing  and  main- 
taining this  popular  resort.  Originally  he  had  camped 
on  the  spot  alone,  lame  with  a  foot  sore  from  the  ef- 
fects of  travel.  Passing  tramps  had  been  attracted 
to  his  camp  fire,  and  iL  their  stories  of  the  foot  path 


128  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

and  tales  of  adventures  he  had  found  the  true  pleas- 
ure that  his  nature  craved.  From  tramp  to  tramp, 
along  the  line  of  track,  the  word  had  passed  where 
good  camping  ground  was  to  be  found,  and  the  Hotel 
de  Log  never  lacked  guests.  Hotel  keeping  became 
a  mania  with  the  painter-tramp.  He  secured  an  old 
cow  bell  and  regularly  visited  all  freight  trains  —  those 
being  the  vehicles  generally  patronized  by  his  cus- 
tomers—  and  invited  members  of  the  fraternity  who 
were  intending  to  stop  off  down  to  his  mansion  on 
the  sunny  side  of  the  grey  sycamore.  He  was  a  harm 
less,  good-natured  little  fellow,  and  liked  by  the  re- 
spectable community  residing  in  the  vicinity  ;  for,  to 
an  extent,  he  controlled  the  disorderly  vagabond  el- 
ement that  gathered  about  him.  The  citizens  gave 
him  such  scraps  of  food  as  they  could  spare,  and  his 
boarders  went  out  on  "  cadjing"  pilgrimages,  and  re- 
turned well  ladened.  He  was  generous  to  a  fault,  and 
had  a  kind,  gentle  hand  for  the  wounded  and  afflicted 
among  his  guests.  The  one  great  luxury  of  his  life, 
was  the  occasional  indulgence  in  a  quiet,  solemn  drunk, 
during  which  he  would  sit  nodding  by  the  brook,  and 
holding  pleasant  converse  with  its  laughing  waters. 

Who  knows  but  the  little  man  was  filling  the  very 
spot  the  Creator  had  moulded  him  for.  If  nothing  is 
made  in  vain,  why  should  this  little  painter-tramp 
have  been  ? 

Heaven  only  knows  where  he  now  is.  But  it  is 
safe  to  venture  the  suggestion  that  if  his  cow  bell  is 
rusting  in  the  grass  grown  court  yard  of  his  hotel, 
and  the  thrush  sings  undisturbed  upon  its  walls  of 
sycamore,  there  are  other  bells  in  distant  lands  that 


THE    HOTEL    DE   LOG.  129 

will  welcome  the  poor  little  painter  to  a  mansion 
paved  with  gold  and  glittering  with  precious  stones. 
A  mansion  like  his  quaint  Hotel  de  Log  —  not  made 
by  human  hands. 

Better,  perhaps,  apply  for  admission  at  the  gates 
of  that  Great  Hostelry,  bearing  with  you  the  odor  of 
kind  deeds  and  the  sanctity  of  a  generous  heart,  than 
with  all  the  pretentious  of  a  successful  life  and  most 
respectable  burial,  supplemented  by  a  shaft  of  marble 
that  shall  hand  your  virtues  to  posterity  in  as  cold 
and  useless  a  shape  as  they  existed  while  you  were 
alive. 

When  Ben  awoke  the  sun  had  passed  meridian. 
The  Evangelist  still  slept,  and  around  the  fire  lounged 
two  tramps  with  wounds  upon  their  legs  caused  by 
unattended  bruises  received  in  boarding  trains.  The 
rest  of  the  guests  had  flown. 

Ben  felt  much  refreshed  by  his  slumber.  One  of 
the  invalids  asked  for  tobacco  and  he  gave  them  both 
a  generous  supply.  In  return  they  spread  before  him 
the  contents  of  the  larder,  consisting  of  bread,  newly 
dug  potatoes,  roasting  ears,  and  a  jug  of  cider.  The 
proprietor,  he  was  informed,  had  departed  early  in  the 
forenoon  to  attend  a  neighboring  carpet  beating,  to 
which  he  had  been  invited.  When  the  Evangelist 
awoke  he  also  partook  of  like  fare.  At  his  sugges- 
tion, Ben  boiled  some  water  in  an  iron  pot,  and  with 
a  wash  tub  —  improvised  out  of  half  a  barrel  —  they 
washed  their  undergarments  by  the  brook,  and  spread 
them  in  the  sun  to  cby. 

One  of  the  invalids  suggested  if  they  were  "crumble" 
they  had  best  give  their  clothes  a  "  dry  wash,"  and 


130  A    TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

further  explained  that  a  dry  wash  consisted  in  spread- 
ing their  garments  over  a  village  of  ant  hills,  and  al- 
lowing those  useful  little  scavengers  to  go  through 
them  and  carry  off  the  parasites,  both  full  grown  and 
in  protoplasm.  Fortunately  the  "  dry  wash  "  had  not 
yet  become  a  necessity  with  either. 

Being  informed  that  a  water  tank,  conveniently 
situated  for"  jumping  "  trains,  was  located  some  seven 
miles  to  the  west,  our  two  travellers  left  the  Hotel  de 
Log  late  in  the  afternoon  —  before  the  proprietor  re- 
turned—  and  started  for  it. 

The  night  that  followed  was  an  active  and  eventful 
one.  The  two  were  repeatedly  put  off  of  trains,  and 
after  having  tried  bumpers,  pilots,  ladders  and  roofs 
—  during  which  they  managed  to  travel  some  forty 
miles  —  they  at  last,  about  midnight,  seated  them- 
selves upon  the  front  platform  of  the  lightning  ex- 
press baggage  car,  and  made  fifty  miles  without  a 
stop.  But,  unfortunately,  when  they  attempted  to 
renew  their  place,  the  train  side  tracked,  and  they 
were  discovered.  An  exciting  chase  between  the 
tramps  and  several  road  officials  followed,  but  eluding 
their  pursuers,  and  convinced  that  it  was  impractic- 
able to  board  a  train  at  that  depot,  they  took  to  the 
road  and  walked  several  miles  until  they  came  to  an 
inviting  haystack,  when  both  lay  down  and  slept. 

Ben  had  now  passed  through  the  states  of  New 
Jersey,  Pennsylvania  and  Ohio,  and  was  on  the  bor- 
der of  Indiana.  He  had  travelled  over  seven  hun- 
dred miles  in  six  days,  and  St.  Louis  was  within  a 
little  more  than  three  hundred  more  in  a  bee  line,  but 
nearer  five  hundred  by  the  route  and  in  the  manner 


THE  HOTEL  DE  LOG.  131 

he  was  compelled  to  go.  So  far  his  success  had  been 
encouraging.  Should  it  continue  he  felt  confident  of 
accomplishing  his  task.  Those  six  days  had  accom- 
plished a  wonderful  change  in  him.  He  was  ragged 
and  dirty,  and  no  longer  cared  for  appearances.  He 
was  now  an  expert  in  stealing  rides.  There  was  a 
bold,  lawless,  vagabond  feeling  gaining  an  ascendancy 
over  him.  He  was  fast  losing  the  self  respect  that 
cares  for  the  opinions  of  others.  His  stomach  had 
accustomed  itself  to  the  new  regime.  He  ate  vora- 
ciously when  he  could  obtain  food  in  plenty,  and 
found  himself  fasting  an  entire  twenty-four  hours 
without  any  very  disagreeable  sensations.  He  was  no 
longer  afraid  to  ask  for  food,  nor  ashamed  of  being 
ordered  roughly  from  a  train  or  its  vicinity.  He  cared 
nothing  about  the  stares  with  which  he  was  greeted; 
an  Ishmaelitish  feeling  was  growing  upon  him  —  and 
he  did  not  care  to  repress  it.  In  fact  Ben  had  become 
a  tramp. 

His  new  companion,  the  Evangelist,  was  a  sociable, 
easy-going,  good-natured  fellow.  He  had  traits  that 
were  peculiar.  Differing  from  the  majority  of  tramps, 
he  never  uttered  an  oath.  "  I  promised  my  dear, 
good  mother,  when  a  child,  that  I  would  not  swear, 
and  I  never  have,"  he  said. 

His  love  and  respect  for  his  mother's  memory  was 
something  sublime,  amid  his  rags  and  degradation. 
He  never  spoke  disrespectfully  of  her  sex,  nor  would 
he  allow  others  to.  He  mentioned  her  often  in  the 
most  devoted  manner,  and  it  was  easy  to  be  seen  that 
she  was  the  idol  of  his  life.  Though  a  cynic  and  a 
skeptic  he  once  said  to  Ben  : 


182  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  Were  I  positive  that  there  was  no  hereafter,  1 
would  school  myself  to  think  otherwise.  For  of  what 
use  would  life  be  to  me  did  I  not  have  the  hope  of 
again  being  by  the  side  of  her  who  has  gone  before 
me  ?  "  And  on  another  occasion  he  said  : 

"  I  like  free-thinkers  well  enough,  and  freedom  of 
thought.  I  would  not  that  any  one  should  be  bound 
down  to  the  slavery  of  creed  or  dogma.  Nor  do  I 
believe  that  any  one  poor,  weak  piece  of  human  clay 
has  a  right  to  dictate  the  road  to  immortality,  or  sit 
in  judgment  on  a  fellow  being.  But  he  who  wrecks 
a  comforting  belief  or  destroys  a  solacing  faith,  ruins 
that  which  he  cannot  replace.  He  takes  away  a  hap- 
piness and  offers  nothing  in  return.  It  is  a  despicable 
act.  A  man  had  better  let  the  creed  or  faith  of  his 
neighbor  alone." 

Horton  had  no  aims,  no  ambitions,  no  aspirations. 
His  was  a  harmless,  purposeless  life.  An  inoffensive 
vagabond  who  first  excited  your  contempt,  and  then 
won  your  pity.  His  mother  had  been  left  a  widow, 
in  poverty,  when  he  was  a  babe,  and  with  her  needle, 
supported  herself  and  child.  All  her  mother's  hopes 
were  centered  in  him  ;  all  his  childish  love  in  her. 
She  struggled  hard  to  give  him  a  fair  education,  and 
the  happiest  moment  of  her  life  was  when  her  boy  en- 
tered a  theological  seminary.  Up  to  that  time  Hor- 
ton had  been  a  more  than  usually  bright  and  promis- 
ing boy.  Whatever  he  did  was  done  "  for  mother's 
sake,"  and  all  his  air-castles  were  occupied  by  her. 
While  he  was  at  the  seminary  she  died,  and  he  never 
recovered  from  the  blow.  A  dull,  dead  apathy  to  all 
about  him  was  succeeded  by  a  mild  cynicism  and  a  sad 


THE   HOTEL  DE  LOG.  183 

rebellion  against  the  justice  of  Providence  ;  which 
latter  caused  his  speedy  expulsion  from  the  theological 
school,  about  which  he  cared  nothing,  however. 

"  Why  could  not  my  mother  have  been  left  tome?" 
he  would  say.  "  Had  not  sorrows,  toils  and  trials 
enough  been  heaped  upon  her  clear  head,  but  that 
just  as  I  was  becoming  a  value  and  a  consolation  to 
her  she  must  be  taken  from  me  and  I  from  her  ?  " 

When  told  that  "  the  Lord  chasteneth  those  he 
loveth,"  he  would  bitterly  exclaim : 

"  Then  I  want  nothing  to  do  with  such  a  God!  It 
is  man's  God.  Created  by  himself,  and  like  himself, 
a  thing  of  fury  and  vengeance  !  No,  no,  no.  Him 
who  lights  the  stars  in  the  sky,  and  in  whose  hand 
this  world  is  a  mite  so  small  that  his  Almighty  eye 
alone  can  see  it,  is  not  the  base,  slaughter-thirsty  cre- 
ation poor,  weak  mortals  attempt  to  depict  in  words 
that  flavor  of  the  dust  of  earth  and  thoughts  that  can- 
not go  beyond  the  grave  !  " 

It  was  probably  a  lack  of  discretion  on  his  part, 
and  a  pernicious  habit  of  speaking  out  his  thoughts, 
that  brought  Horton  into  disrepute  with  respectable 
people  when  he  chanced  to  stop  among  them.  For 
men  and  women  do  not  like  to  have  people — es- 
pecially poor  and  dependent  people  —  set  up  in  the 
thinking  business  for  themselves,  while  so  much  labor 
and  money  has  been  expended  to  have  their  thinking 
done  for  them ;  it  looks  presumptuous  and  ungrateful. 

The  Evangelist  had  an  old  silver  watch  that  had 
belonged  to  his  father.  It  had  been  the  family  time 
piece  of  the  little  home  formed  by  his  adored  mother 
and  himself,  and  through  all  the  vici^itudes  of  his 


134  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

rambling  life  he  had  managed  to  retain  it.  It  was  the 
connecting  link  between  himself  and  a  past  respecta- 
bility. 

Ben  had  taken  a  great  liking  to  the  fellow,  and  of- 
ten spoke  to  him  seriously  about  reforming  his  vaga- 
bond career,  and  becoming  a  decent  member  of  soci- 
ety. But  Horton's  sophistry  was  too  much  for  him. 

"  Drones  are  not  the  worst  inhabitants  of  this  great 
hive,  called  the  world,"  he  would  say  laughingly. 
"  Drones  are  consumers,  and  the  more  consumers  and 
fewer  producers,  the  better  times  are.  This  country 
was  never  so  busy  at  work  as  when  it  had  a  million 
of  non-productive  men  in  the  field,  to  take  care  of. 
As  a  vagabond,  I  support  others  by  compelling  others 
to  support  me." 

Ben's  words  evidently  at  times  had  some  effect  on 
him,  however,  and  set  him  to  doing  much  quiet  think- 
ing. 

I 


THE   EVANGELIST   INVESTS   IN   A   HORSE.       135 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE   EVANGELIST   INVESTS   IN  A  HORSE. 

A  RATHER  unprofitable  journey  by  daylight  was 
attempted,  with  but  little  success.  The  trains 
were  so  closely  watched  that  they  found  it  next  to 
impossible  to  ride  on  them.  Some  tramps,  whom  they 
met  on  foot,  informed  them  that  this  was  on  account 
of  a  fracas  that  had  occurred  on  the  western  end  of 
the  line.  The  train  men  were  expelling  some  free- 
riders,  and  handling  one  of  them  very  roughly  the 
tramp  drew  a  knife  and  plunged  it  into  the  side  of 
a  brakeman.  The  wounded  man  was  not  expected  to 
recover,  and  very  strict  orders  had  been  issued  by  the 
management  of  the  road  to  prevent  all  tramps  from 
boarding  trains  or  riding  upon  them. 

This  being  the  case  the  Evangelist  suggested  that 
they  strike  across  the  country,  and  get  on  another 
railroad,  running  nearly  parallel,  fifty  miles  to  the 
south  of  them. 

They  walked  quite  a  distance  that  evening,  and 
camped  in  a  straw  pile.  On  the  following  day  they 
resumed  their  line  of  march  through  a  lovely  rolling 
country  of  openings,  woodlands  and  meadows,  inter- 
spersed by  many  streams. 


1S6  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

It  was  the  middle  of  September  —  the  golden  time 
of  all  the  year.  The  atmosphere  was  filled  with  a 
soft,  hazy  lustre ;  the  reflex  heat  of  the  summer 
months  after  it  had  journeyed  so  far  as  the  ice  fields 
of  the  far  north,  arid  been  turned  back  in  a  soft  and 
gracious  air.  Gentle  winds  told  forest  tales  among 
the  tall  trees,  and  nodded  the  heads  of  the  grey  mul- 
lens  in  requiem  over  the  great,  broad,  plush-like  leaves 
that  lay  dying  at  the  foot  of  the  stalks.  Sentinel 
sheaves  of  wheat  stood  grouped  about  the  yellow 
fields,  and  from  out  the  stubble  came  the  piping  of 
the  quail  mingling  with  the  rustling  of  the  long, 
drooping,  corn  leaves;  a  mellow,  autumnal  refrain. 
Near  at  hand  the  chattering  brook  ran  a  messenger 
of  harvest  time  to  the  far  ofi^  river,  and  the  river  car- 
ried the  news  to  the  gulf,  and  the  gulf  swept  it  to  the 
four  corners  of  the  earth. 

"  As  printed  staves  of  thankful  Nature's  hymn, 
The  fence  of  rails  a  soothing  grace  devotes,       / 
With  clinging  vines  for  bass  and  treble  cleffs, 
And  wrens  and  roBins  here  and  there  for  notes ; 
Spread  out  in  bars,  at  equal  distance  met, 
As  though  the  whole  bright  autumn  scene  were  set 
To  the  unuttered  melody  of  Rest !  " 

"  The  mill-wheel  motionless  o'ershades  the  pool, 
In  whose  frail  crystal  cups  its  circle  dips ; 
The  stream,  slow  curling,  wanders  in  the  sun, 
And  drains  his  kisses  with  its  silver  lips ; 
The  birch  canoe  upon  its  shadow  lies, 
The  pike's  last  bubble  on  the  water  dies, 
The  water  lily  sleeps  upon  her  glass." 

The  lovely  quiet  of  the  country  gave  our  travellers 
a  feeling  of  peace  and  rest,  that  the  sharp  voice  of 
the  iron  horse  and  the  rattle  of  his  steel-shod  hoofs 
had  forbidden  them.. 


THE   EVANGELIST   INVESTS   IN   A   HORSE.       137 

"  This  it  is  that  makes  tramping  glorious  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  Evangelist,  imbued  with  the  beauty  and 
placidity  of  Nature's  feast. 

u  '  Far  from  the  maddening  crowd's  ignoble  strife  ' 
I  could  tramp  forever  and  forever,  with  Nature  for  a 
companion,  and  feed  my  hungry  eyes  on  her  loveli- 
ness !  " 

Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  as  Ben  arid  his 
friend  were  seated,  resting  on  the  top  rail  of  an  old, 
moss-covered,  stake-and-rider  fence,  a  young  man  came 
up  to  them  mounted  on  a  horse.  The  animal  was 
without  a  saddle  and  looked  as  though  he  had  been 
severely  ridden.  His  rider  appeared  to  be  an  ordinary 
young  country  fellow,  without  any  particular  points 
of  interest  about  him.  He  drew  rein  opposite  our 
friends  and  entered  into  conversation  with  them,  stat- 
ing that  he  was  a  resident  of  Bonfield  in  the  adjoining 
county,  thirty  miles  distant,  and  having  had  a  falling 
out  with  the  old  folks  at  home,  had  left  the  parental 
roof  with  this  horse  —  his  only  property  —  determined 
to  seek  his  fortunes  abroad  ;  ef  it  tuk  him  through  six 
'jining  counties  !  But  he  found  the  horse  to  be  a 
plaguy  botheration.  He'd  no  saddle,  an'  he  was  too 
poor  to  buy  one,  and  too  poor  to  afford  the  luxury  of 
a  ridin'.  He  could  better  afford  to  walk.  He  said 
he  was  a  simple  feller  and  didn't  know  much  'bout 
the  world,  no  how,  which  they  might  a  seed.  He 
was  determined  to  sell  or  dicker  his  hoss,  and  mebbe 
they'd  like  to  buy  the  anamyle.  How  much  w'uld 
they  give  fur  him  ?  But  our  friends  had  no  money 
to  purchase  him  with  even  had  they  been  so  in- 
clined. In  that  case  moughtn't  they  hev  sumthin' 


138  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

they'd  trade  ?  For  the  rider  was  so  durned  tired 
of  the  bruit,  durned  if  he  didn't  nigh  feel  like 
givin'  him  away,  or  a  tradin'  him  fur  sum  durned 
jack  knife !  Our  friends  had  nothing  to  trade  him, 
however. 

No  pistols,  nor  watches,  nor  jewelrj^,  nor  nothing  ? 

Ben  shook  his  head,  but  the  Evangelist  studied  a 
moment. 

"  Ben,"  he  whispered,  "  I  hate  to  part  with  my 
watch.  It  is  the  last  earthly  tie  I  have  binding  me 
to  memories  of  the  past.  But  —  if — if  I  had  that 
horse  I  could  sell  him  —  sell  him  may  be  for  fifty  or 
sixty  dollars !  And  that  would  be  money  enough  to 
take  us  both  decently  to  St.  Louis,  and  pay  our  ex- 
penses there  until  we  could  secure  emplo3rment  — 
good  employment.  I'd  give'  up  rambling,  and  —  it 
might  be  the  making  of  us  both !  " 

Cleveland  tried  to  persuade  him  not  to  part  with 
the  watch,  but  the  sanguine  temperament  of  the  Evan- 
gelist—  peculiar  to  him  —  was  already  picturing  a 
life  of  respectability  in  St.  Louis.  A  great  reforma- 
tion with  Ben  for  a  constant  moral  support  to  lean 
upon.  Indeed  it  was  Ben's  own  reasoning  heretofore 
that  caused  the  other  to  think  at  all  of  changing  his 
condition. 

"  Yes  I  will,  yes  I  will,  Ben.  It's  a  great  chance 
—  who  knows  what  may  come  of  it !  " 

And  Ben  who  had  formed  a  strong  liking  for  his 
companion  thought  perhaps  it  might  be  for  the  best 
after  all.  That  it  might,  possibly,  be  a  turning  point 
in  Horton's  life,  that  would  redeem  him. 

The  watch  was   scarce  worth   twenty  dollars.     It 


THE   EVANGELIST   INVESTS   IN   A   HOESE.       139 

had  heavy,  old-fashioned  silver  cases,  but  the  works 
—  though  in  good  order  —  were  antique.  Horton 
offered  it  to  the  rider  for  his  horse,  and  the  latter,  af- 
ter dickering  for  something  "  to  boot,"  and  finding  he 
could  get  nothing  more,  accepted  it.  Then  he  trans- 
ferred the  horse  to  ths  Evangelist,  calling  upon  Ben 
to  be  a  witness  to  the  trade,  and  bidding  our  friends 
good  day,  stated  that  he  wished  to  pass  the  night  with 
a  cousin  six  miles  distant,  and  struck  out  over  the 
fields. 

The  two  travellers  took  a  look  at  their  new  ac- 
quisition. He  was  a  trifle  old,  and  had  a  bone 
spavin,  but  otherwise  was  a  good,  solid  chunk  of 
a  farm  horse.  The  question  now  arose  what  to  do 
with  him. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Horton,  "  it  is  about  twelve 
miles  to  Lickskillet,  where  we  strike  the  railroad. 
That  is  too  far  for  you  to  walk  to-uight,  but  I  can 
ride,  and  get  into  the  town  an  hour  or  so  before  sun- 
down, by  pushing  my  horse.  I'll  sell  him  there  for 
all  I  can  get,  and  wait  for  you.  You  walk  so  far  as 
you  feel  able  to-night  and  get  up  early  to-morrow 
morning  and  come  on,"  and  then  after  a  pause :  "  Don't 
delay  Ben,  for  it  aint  just  safe  for  me  to  have  money 
about  me  yet  —  my  good  resolutions  are  too  new," 
and  he  laughed,  but  his  voice  was  serious  and  entreat- 
ing. 

This  arrangement  being  perfected  the  Evangelist 
mounted  his  purchase  and  rode  off  at  a  sharp  canter, 
Ben  following  more  slowly  on  foot. 

Now  that  Horton  was  gone  our  hero  discovered 
what  a  companion  he  had  been.  Always  ready  with 


140  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

some  quaint  suggestion  or  far-fetched  argument  — 
original  in  his  metaphors  and  epigrammatic  in  his 
criticisms  —  he  had  caused  the  time  to  pass  away 
agreeably,  and  Ben  missed  him. 

With  pleasant  reveries  he  beguiled  the  way  until 
sundown  came  upon  him  unnoticed.  He  could  have, 
made  Lickskillet  that  night  by  an  increase  of  exer- 
tion, but  his  feet  were  tired  and  as  there  was  no  ne- 
cessity for  getting  into  the  town  until  morning,  he 
began  looking  about  him  for  a  camping  place.  While 
prospecting  for  a  straw  pile,  or  hay  stack,  suitably  sit- 
uated for  his  night's  rest,  he  passed  a  comfortable 
farm  house,  consisting  of  a  frame  building  with  a.  log 
kitchen  in  its  rear.  In  the  barn  3rard,  near  the  house, 
a  man  was  attempting  to  raise  a  corn  crib  by  means 
of  two  timbers  used  as  levers.  The  method  did  not 
appear  to  work  well,  and  Ben  watched  him  through 
several  failures.  He  would  first  bear  down  one  of  his 
levers,  and  piling  stones  upon  it  attempt  to  hold  it  in 
this  manner,  while  he  lifted  on  the  other.  But  the 
levers  slipped,  and  he  was  unsuccessful.  He  had 
worked  fruitlessly  long  enough  to  make  help  appreci- 
ated, and  when  Ben  offered  his  assistance,  it  was 
gladly  accepted.  It  took  nearly  an  hour's  labor  to 
get  the  corn  crib  into  the  desired  position  and  prop- 
erly propped  up. 

When  the  work  was  done,  the  farmer  thanked  him 
and  asked  if  he  was  travelling. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I'm  on  my  way  to  St.  Louis." 

"  Wall,  I  declar  !     Reckon  you'll   git   thar   twixt 
now  and  Chris'mas  ?  " 

Ben  reckoned  he  would. 


THE   EVANGELIST  INVESTS   IN    A   HOESE.       141 

"  I  declar !     No  money  ?  " 

"  No  money." 

"  Tumble  bad  condition,  I  declar !  Come  in  and 
take  a  bite  ;  ye've  arned  yer  supper.  I  ain't  got  no 
great  show  of  'commodations,  but  these  nights  air 
not  cold,  an'  thar's  a  plenty  of  fresh  straw  out  in 
the  cow  shed.  Reckon  ye  kin  make  out  ?  Hey, 
not?" 

Ben  assured  him  that  the  accommodations  offered 
were  highly  acceptable. 

"And  whar  mought  ye  come  f rum  ?  "  asked  the 
farmer. 

"  New  York,"  replied  Ben. 

"  I  declar  !     State  or  city  ?  " 

"  City." 

"  I  declar ! "  And  he  looked  at  Ben  and  Ben 
looked  at  him.  "  That's  a  right  smart  piece  frum 
hyar,  I  reckon  ?  " 

Ben  told  him  it  was  nearly  eight  hundred  miles,  at 
which  he  "  declar'd  !  "  again. 

On  entering  the  farm  house  he  was  introduced  to 
the  farmer's  wife,  and  four  small  tow-headed  children, 
with  the  remark : 

"  Fly  round,  'Riah  ;  hyar's  a  man  all  the  way  frum 
New  Yurk  City  agoin'  to  St.  Lowis ;  an'  I'm  tumble 
peckish,  which  I  reckon  he  is  too,"  at  which  'Riah 
also  said  "  I  declar  !  "  and  the  four  tow-headed  chil- 
dren stood  with  open  mouths  and  looked  it,  though 
they  did  not  say  so. 

At  the  table  the  farmer  turned  to  Ben,  somewhat 
to  the  latter's  consternation,  and  asked  : 

"  Strangier,  will  you  say  a  blessin'  ?" 


142  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Ben  might  have  recited  some  Homeric  ode,  but  a 
simple  blessing  left  him  high  and  dry  on  the  shoals  of 
ignorance,  and  he  had  to  decline. 

The  good  man  came  near  saying  "  I  declar ! "  but 
corrected  himself,  and  proceeded  to  ask  divine  protec- 
tion for  himself  and  family  and  the  stranger  within 
his  gates,  interpolating  a  few  reflections  upon  his  old- 
est son  and  heir's  reprehensible  act  of  sticking  his 
fingers  in  the  "meat  gravy,"  and  introducing  in  the 
invocation  a  promise  to  give  the  two  youngest  tow 
heads  "  a  good  larrupin'  fur  their  obstreporosity  of 
behaviour."  Grace  having  been  duly  wound  up  by 
the  head  of  the  family  smartly  rapping  the  tow  head 
nearest  to  him  with  his  knuckles,  for  an  infraction  of 
proprieties,  Ben  was  solicited  not  to  stand  on  cere- 
mony, but  to  "  pitch  in." 

After  supper  a  pipe  and  a  chat  by  a  log  fire  —  more 
for  light  and  cheerfulness  than  heat  —  followed.  But 
our  hero  soon  grew  sleepy,  tired  out  with  the  day's 
long  walk,  and  retired  to  the  cow  shed  determined  to 
be  up  and  away  at  early  cock  crow  in  the  morning. 

Sometime  during  the  night  he  was  partially  awak- 
ened from  his  slumbers  by  voices  on  the  kitchen 
porch.  Half  asleep  and  half  awake  he  heard  the  fol- 
lowing disjointed  expressions : 

"  He's  caught  —  Lickskillet  jail  —  they're  all  a  com- 
ing —  'greed  to  it  after  meetin'  —  make  an  example 
of  him  —  we'll  show  'em  —  come  on  —  be  quick  !  " 
After  which  he  was  dimly  conscious  that  some  one 
entered  the  barn  and  saddled  a  horse.  There  was  a 
clatter  of  hoofs  out  on  the  road,  and  then  all  was 
again  quiet,  and  Ben  slept  peacefully. 


THE   EVANGELIST   INVESTS   IN   A   HORSE.       143 

It  was  the  dark  hour  before  dawn  when  the  rest- 
less chanticleer  from  his  perch  in  a  neighboring  apple 
tree  called  our  hero  up.  He  limbered  himself  with 
a  good  round  of  shakes  and  stamping  life  into  his 
sleepy  feet,  started  out  in  the  dark  for  Lickskillet, 
five  miles  distant. 


144  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

LICKSKILLET  HAS  A   SENSATION. 

THOUGH  this  is  a  true  and  faithful  chronicle  of 
the  adventures  of  our  friend  Benjamin  Cleve- 
land, so  closely  have  his  affairs  now  become  linked 
with  the  destiny  of  another  that  we  must  temporarily 
leave  him,  and  turn  to  the  hamlet  of  Lickskillet. 

When  the  Evangelist  arrived  with  his  horse  late 
the  previous  afternoon,  he  found  the  village  to  consist 
of  a  single  straggling  street,  lined  by  country  stores, 
in  front  of  which  were  hitched  a  few  farm  teams  and 
country  wagons.  The  Evangelist  was  stared  at  after 
the  usual  bucolic  fashion.  His  immediate  business 
being  the  disposal  of  his  equine  property,  he  rode  up 
to  a  long,  low,  weather-stained  building,  bearing  the 
legend,  "  Livery,  board  and  sale  stable,"  in  skeleton 
characters  on  a  board  that  decorated  a  pole.  Half  a 
dozen  loungers  greeted  his  advent  with  a  stolid  stare. 

Horton  rode  into  the  building  and  dismounting, 
propounded  the  question: 

"  Does  anybody  know  of  anybody  that  wants  to  buy 
a  horse  ?  " 

Another  stare,  more  dense  in  its  stupidity  and  sto- 
lidity, greeted  the  query. 


LICKSKILLET   HAS    A   SENSATION.  145 

"  If  they  do,  here's  a  solid  good  work  horse  I'll 
sell  cheap,"  continued  he. 

At  this  information  a  man,  who  had  been  engaging 
his  time  and  attention  in  company  with  an  intelligent 
jack  knife,  upon  a  shingle,  arose,  and  allowing  his 
hand  and  knife  to  pare  away  at  the  wood  after  their 
own  inclination,  walked  slowly  around  the  horse  and 
observed  him  with  a  critical  eye. 

"  Whar'd  ye  get  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Bought  him  of  a  man  up  the  road,"  replied  Hor- 
ton.  "  I  got  him  at  a  bargain,  and  I'll  sell  him  at 
one." 

"  How  much  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  I'll  sell  him  for  fifty  dollars,  cash,"  said  the  Evan- 
gelist. 

The  man  stared  at  Horton  a  full  minute  without 
speaking,  slowly  running  his  eye  from  the  Evange- 
list's head  to  his  feet  and  up  again  several  times. 
Then,  still  whittling,  he  walked  to  the  bam  door, 
where  he  turned  and  gave  a  sly  wink  to  one  of  the 
stolid  men  present ;  which  pantomimic  piece  of  activ- 
ity seemed  to  create  some  little  sensation  among  the 
human  stolidity  present. 

One  after  another  they  arose,  and  slowly  walking 
around  the  horse,  eyed  him  from  head  to  tail,  then 
giving  Horton  a  final  examination,  passed  quietly  out 
of  the  door,  until  the  latter  found  himself  left  alone 
with  his  horse. 

This  situation  lasted  but  a  few  moments,  for  the 
man  who  first  went  out  shortly  returned,  still  whit- 
tling, and  commenced  interrogating  him. 

"Whar   did   ye  kum  frum?     Whar  air  ye  goin' ? 


146  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

How  long  ye  bed  the  anirayle  ?  Wot  ye  want  to  sell 
it  fur?  How'd  he  kum  to  be  rid  so  hard  ? "  and  nu- 
merous other  questions  were  asked  and  duly  answered. 
Having  finished  his  category,  the  stable-keeper  —  for 
it  was  the  owner  and  proprietor  of  the  "  livery  "  —  re- 
marked : 

"  Looks  mighty  'spicious ! " 

"  What  looks  suspicious?  "  asked  Horton. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  replied  the  man  with  a  tone  and 
look  indicating  that  his  yahoo  mind  was  one  immense 
volume  of  doubt. 

The  Evangelist  was  puzzled.  He  could  see  noth- 
ing strange  about  the  matter,  and  so  expressed  him- 
self. If  a  man  wanted  a  good  horse  cheap,  there  was 
the  animal  —  and  if  he  did  not,  he  could  let  it  alone. 
A  liberty  of  action  that  would  no  doubt  have  power- 
fully impressed  the  "  'spicious  "  man  were  it  not  that 
the  attention  of  both  was  suddenly  diverted  into  other 
channels.  There  were  heard  the  murmur  of  many 
voices,  and  the  shuffling  of  many  feet  on  the  street, 
and  half  a  hundred  men,  picked  up  from  farmers' 
wagons,  trading  stores  and  adjacent  fields,  rushed  into 
the  stable  and  surrounded  Horton  and  the  horse. 
While  he  was  staring  in  astonishment  at  this  influx 
of  purchasers,  a  lank,  sandy-complexioned  man  stepped 
from  the  crowd  and  taking  one  look  at  the  horse,  ex- 
claimed : 

"  That's  him  !    Whoa,  Bob  !  " 

The  animal  immediately  recognizing  the  voice  and 
name,  turned  his  head  and  greeted  the  sandy  man 
with  a  neigh. 

At  this  Horton  stepped  back  in  astonishment,  but 


LICKSKILLET   HAS   A   SENSATION.  147 

the  next  instant  was  felled  to  the  stable  floor  "by  a 
blow  on  the  head,  and  three  men  pounced  upon  him, 
crying  out : 

"  No  you  don't,  you  scoundrel !  You're  too  late ! 
We've  got  ye  and'll  keep  ye  !  You  bet ! " 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  the  Evangelist  so  soon  as  he 
could  recover  breath.  "  What  in  the  name  of  Heaven 
does  all  this  mean  ?  " 

"  Mean  !  "  exclaimed  half  a  dozen  voices,  while  a 
score  of  angry  eyes  glared  vengefully  upon  him  ; 
"  Mean  ?  Why  it  means  ye're  gone  up,  ye  whelp  of 
a  hoss  thief !  " 

"  I  am  no  thief !  "  he  indignantly  replied.  "  That 
horse  is  my  property,  and  I  came  by  him  honestly." 

"  Ye  lie !  "  shouted  he  of  the  sandy  complexion, 
who  was  now  holding  '  Bob.'  "  Ye  lie  !  Ye  stole 
that  hoss  outer  my  cow  lot  night  afore  last,  I  kem 
from  Spoonerville  down  the  town-line  rud  or  I'd  hev 
cot  ye  on  the  way,  an'  ef  I  hed  the  county  ud  hev 
been  saved  the  expense  of  yer  trial !  "  And  giving 
utterance  to  this  dark  shadowing  of  a  vengeful  pur- 
pose the  sandy  man  glared  upon  Horton. 

"Gentlemen  it  is  false !  I  — "  commenced  the 
Evangelist,  but  the  sandy  man,  unable  to  reach  him 
with  his  hands  and  hold  his  horse  at  the  same  time, 
gave  the  poor  captive  a  vicious  kick  in  the  stomach, 
exclaiming : 

"  Ye  mean  to  tell  me  I  lie,  ye  dirty,  hoss  thief !  " 

One  would  have  thought  that  in  that  crowd  some 
voice  had  been  found  to  call  "  shame  "  at  the  cow- 
ardly act  of  striking  a  man  held  from  self  defence  by 
the  hands  of  others.  But  the  agricultural  sense  of 


148  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

hon<3r  is  somewhat  like  the  agricultural  habits  of  life 
—  somewhat  narrowed  by  limited  associations.  Had 
the  good  feelings  of  the  crowd  been  appealed  to  they 
would  all  have  rushed  after  a  leader  like  a  flock  of 
sheep,  probably.  It  being  the  opposite,  Horton  was 
kicked  and  cuffed  to  their  heart's  content,  as  though 

o 

each  had  a  private  grievance  to  attend  to.  They  then 
stood  him  on  his  feet  and  demanded  that  he  give  an 
account  of  himself. 

Thoroughly  frightened  and  suffering  much  pain 
from  the  harsh  treatment  he  had  received,  and  fear- 
ing a  repetition  of  it  that  seemed  to  indicate  itself  in 
the  lowering  looks  surrounding  him,  the  poor  unfor- 
tunate Evangelist  humbled  his  tone,  and  gave  a  truth- 
ful statement  of  himself  and  the  manner  in  which  he 
had  obtained  possession  of  the  horse.  Briefly  he 
stated  who  lie  was  and  did  not  try  to  palliate  the  crime 
of  being  a  tramp.  Then  he  related  ho\v,  while  in 
company  with  Ben,  he  had  traded  a  watch  for  the 
horse  with  a  farmer's  boy  who  lived  in  Boiifield,  and 
had  brought  the  animal  in  town  to  sell  it ;  leaving  his 
comrade  back  on  the  road,  to  come  after  him  on  the 
morrow. 

"  A  likely  story  !  " 

"•  Did  he  think  to  stuff  that  down  their  throats  ?  " 

"•  A  man  without  money  having  watches  to  give 
for  horses !  Too  thin  !  " 

"  Where  was  his  partner?" 

"  Selling  another  horse  somewhere,  probably  !  " 

"  He  said  he  was  a  tramp,  and  what  was  a  tramp 
but  a  hoss  thief!  " 

And  they  laughed  at  his  statements  in  derision. 


LICKSKILLET   HAS    A   SEXSATION.  149 

The  tide  was  setting  strong  against  the  Evangelist. 
It  became  a  perfect  torrent  when  the  sandy  complex- 
ioned  man  called  upon  another  sandy  complexioned 
man,  with  sandy  hair  and  sandy  beard  and  sandy 
clothes,  and  small  sandy  blue  eyes,  and  hard  sandy 
hands  (honest,  no  doubt,  but  very  ragged  at  the  fin- 
ger ends  and  very  dirt-grimed)  and  a  sandy  voice, 
and  sandy  appearance  generally  from  his  heel  to  his 
occiput,  to  come  take  a  good  "  squar  "  look  at  Hor- 
ton,  and  see  if  he  was  not  the  man  he  had  seen  loaf- 
ing around  in  the  vicinit}r  of  Spoonerville  ?  And  this 
sandiest  of  all  sandy  men,  feeling  himself  elevated  to 
a  consequential  position,  felt  it  incumbent  upon  his 
new  notoriety  to  aver  that  Horton  was  the  man ; 
compromising  with  some  slight  qualms  of  conscience 
with  the  codicil  that  "  leastways  he  lulcs  mighty  sight 
like  him."  That  settled  it.  And  all  his  wild  pro- 
testations could  not  change  the  decision  of  the  crowd 
that  immediately  transformed  the  luckless  Evangelist 
from  a  tramp  into  a  horse  thief. 

By  this  time  a  man  who  was  duly  authorized  to  act 
as  town  marshal  appeared  on  the  scene,  and  with  a 
deal  of  importance  seized  Horton's  person  in  the  ma- 
jestic name  of  the  Law !  and  conveyed  his  seizure,  fol- 
lowed by  the  crowd,  to  the  village  lock-up.  A  small 
plank  box,  twelve  feet  by  twelve  feet  in  all  of  its  di- 
mensions, without  a  window,  and  principally  used  for 
the  occasional  cooling  off  of'  some  obstreperous  bu- 
colics who  on  coming  to  town  became  surcharged 
with  the  staff  of  life  in  a  liquid  form.  Into  this  hole, 
standing  solitary  and  alone  in  the  centre  of  the  vil- 
lage common,  he  was  thrown,  and  the  door  closed 


150  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

•with,  a  bang.  The  rusty  key  grated  in  the  rusty  lock, 
the  rusty  crowd  outside  gave  some  rusty  whoops  and 
yells,  and  then  went  off  pawing  the  air  as  men  who 
had  done  great  deeds.  It  was  as  though,  in  some  far 
off  Hindoo  village,  the  tiger  that  had  been  fattening 
his  ribs  upon  the  natives  had  at  last  been  caught  and 
caged.  Everybody,  save  that  poor  battered  and 
bruised  form  on  the  floor  of  the  village  lockup,  was 
triumphant ! 

And  now  of  what  use  is  a  triumph  unless  we  cele- 
brate it  ?  And  what  is  the  great  American  method 
of  celebrating  triumphs?  From  the  nabob  who  in 
gilded  apartments  gracefully  nods  his  head  to  his 
brother  nabob,  as  he  remarks  :  "  I  congratulate  you  " 
before  sending  the  soul  of  sunny  France  gurgling 
down  his  pink  throat,  down  to  the  ragged  effigy  who 
leans  against  the  sour-smelling  fetid  bar  and  cracks 
his  glass  against  the  glass  of  his  brother  effigy,  with  : 
"Here's  luck,  d  —  n  your  soul!  "  as  he.  pitches  the 
scorching  tanglefoot  down  his  red  hot  gullet,  we 
Americans  have  our  own  method  of  celebrating  tri- 
umphs. We  get  drunk. 

So  these  Lickskilletonians  celebrated  in  the  hour 
of  their  triumph. 

Stiff,  sore,  bruised,  battered  and  bleeding,  the  Evan- 
gelist struggled  to  his  feet  and  staggering  to  a  nar- 
row, iron-barred  slit  in  the  side  of  the  village  lockup, 
looked  out.  The  sun  was  creeping  to  bed  among  the 
purple  hills  of  the  horizon.  Already  it  had  nearly 
disappeared  ;  all  save  a  narrow  disk,  that  with  a  red, 
autumnal  glow  was  bidding  the  world  good-night. 
Long  and  earnestly  he  gazed  upon  the  glowing  west, 


LICKSKILLET   HAS   A   SENSATION.  151 

painted  with  red  and  purple  and  russet,  and  trimmed 
with  silver  and  gold.  With  its  woods  and  meadows 
and  vales,  painted  by  God's  own  hand.  With  its  fad- 
ing lights,  its  deepening  shadows,  its  soft  grey  of  com- 
ing twilight.  Long  he  gazed,  until  the  shadows  had 
swallowed  up  the  light,  and  the  grey  of  twilight  was 
lost  in  the  dusk  of  night.  Then  he  flung  himself  on 
the  floor,  and  sleep  came  with  a  soft  and  soothing 
balm  to  anoint  his  wounds  ;  his  eyes  filled  with  that 
last  glow  —  his  last  —  of  his  Creator's  sunlight. 


152  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

JUDGE  LYNCH  HOLDS  COURT. 

A  SHORT  distance  out  of  Licksldllet  stood  a 
country  church.  A  quiet-looking,  unpreten- 
tious frame  building,  with  a  stunted  little  steeple  sur- 
mounted by  a  weather-vane  in  the  shape  of  an  arrow 
hanging  at  right  angles  on  an  iron  rod  with  a  gilded 
point.  The  weekly  prayer  meeting  was  being  held 
that  evening,  and  the  yeomen  of  the  vicinity  met  to 
send  their  appeals  for  clemency,  in  a  body,  to  the 
Great  Judge  on  high  ;  each  taking  his  turn  in  the 
supplications.  A  sort  of  prayerful  round-robin.  An 
opportunity  to  improve  the  recording  angel's  record 
in  the  celestial  ledger,  and  enhance  their  reputations 
for  goodness  among  the  neighbors  by  a  full,  (but  in- 
expensive,) confession  of  their  sins  and  wickedness. 
Confessions  on  general  principles,  however  —  not  spe- 
cific ones.  Brother  Longhorn  prayed  for  forgiveness 
for  his  sins  in  general,  but  did  not  mention  defraud- 
ing Green  Southdown  in  a  horse  trade,  nor  did  he 
speak  any  thing  about  restitution.  Brother  Plough- 
git  demanded  that  the  wicked  be  no  longer  allowed  to 
flourish  like  the  green  bay  tree  —  and  did  not  tremble 


JUDGE  LYNCH  HOLDS  COURT.        153 

with  personal  apprehension  while  doing  it.  Brother 
Hedges  took  much  satisfaction  in  announcing  that  he 
was  a  poor,  weak  sinner  —  which  confession  was  ap- 
parently concurred  in  by  a  number  of  the  brethren. 
Brother  R3-efield  spoke  glowingly  of  charity  and 
prayed  that  they  all  might  be  greatly  blessed  with 
that  virtue  —  but  said  nothing  about  withdrawing  a 
suit  against  a  man  who  was  trying  to  support  a  wife, 
five  children,  and  the  consumption  on  nothing. 
Brother  Powter  wanted  strength  to  do  His  bidding, 
which  caused  Brother  Applegate  to  reflect  that  if  His 
bidding  conflicted  with  Brother  Powter's  own  bidding 
it  would  take  all  the  strength  of  sixteen  hundred 
million  yoke  of  fat  cattle  to  answer  Brother  Powter's 
prayer.  Brother  Potts  was  thankful  for  what  he  had 
and  wanted  more.  Brother  Rockafellow  prayed  that 
their  hearts  might  all  be  filled  with  an  abiding  peace 
and  love.  And  they  all  say  "  Amen  !  " 

After  meeting  the  general  topic  was  the  capture  of 
the  horse  thief.  Down  in  the  village  the  unregener- 
ated  were  still  holding  a  feeble  celebration,  but  beyond 
an  excuse  for  celebrating  they  did  not  look  upon  the 
capture  as  an  incentive  to  sterner  action.  Not  so 
with  the  brethren.  They  did  not  endorse  the  cele- 
bration. That  is,  not  „ publicly.  Moreover  they 
looked  upon  the  celebrants  as  a  vain  and  worldly  peo- 
ple. 

But  at  a  cross  road  Brother  Pewter  met  Brother 
Longhorn,  and  was  overtaken  by  Brother  Rockafel- 
low and  Brother  Ploughgit  and  Brother  Hedges,  and 
several  other  brothers,  and  a  discussion  ensued  as  to 
the  safety  of  live  stock  in  that  vicinity  —  more  espe- 
cially "  hosses." 


154  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  I  tell  ye  wot,"  said  Brother  Powter,  "this  thing's 
got  to  be  stopped.  We  aint  none  of  us  safe  !  " 

"  An'  I  don't  see  but  now's  the  'pinted  time  to  stop 
it,"  said  Brother  Rockafellow. 

And  Brother  Longhorn  said  : 

"  Ef  we  make  a  example  of  this  one,  it'll  clear  the 
country  of  the  scoundrils  an'  give  us  peace  an'  secur- 
ity !  " 

"  But  mebbe  the  lor  hed  better  take  its  course," 
suggested  a  timid  brother. 

"  Thet's  it  Brother  Calfer ;  thet's  it.  Wot  is  the 
course  of  the  lor  ?  Why  it's  to  involve  the  county 
hed  over  ears  in  debts  fur  us  farmers  to  pay,  an'  let 
the  hoss  thief  go  free  !  Thet's  wot  the  lor  is !  "  and 
this  explanation  of  what  the  law  consisted  of  met 
with  many  approving  expressions  of  "  Thet's  so  ! " 
"You've  hit  it!"  "Lor's  a  swindle!"  "Ropes 
good  cheap  lor  !  "  and  other  endorsements. 

And  the  little  crowd  at  the  cross  roads  in  caucus 
assembled  appointed  each  one  present  a  committee  of 
one  to  ride  around  the  neighborhood  that  night  and 
invite  the  neighbors  to  meet  before  "  sun  up  "  on  the 
public  square  in  Lickskillet,  and  "  devise  measures  for 
the  protection  of  the  public  peace  and  property,  more 
especially  hosses." 

On  the  cold  floor  of  his  prison  the  Evangelist  lay 
folded  in  the  arms  of  the  merciful  angel  of  rest.  The 
blood  had  dried  upon  his  face,  and  its  deep  crimson 
contrasted  weirdly  with  the  ghastly  palor  of  his  coun- 
tenance even  in  the  faint  star  light  that  crept  through 
the  one  narrow  aperture  in  the  building.  His  long, 
thin  fingers  were  clasped  as  though  in  prayer,  and 


JUDGE  LYNCH  HOLDS  COUKT.        155 

ever  and  anon  his  lips  would  move  and  a  smile  break 
upon  them  —  hideously  out  of  conformity  with  his 
blood-stained  face.  But  blood  and  wounds  and  bruises 
and  rags  and  miseries  and  wretchedness,  were  all  for- 
gotten by  the  sleeper.  He  was  with  his  mother.  He 
was  with  her,  in  that  realm  entered  only  through  the 
portals  of  sleep.  Again  he  was  a  boy.  Again  with 
dog-eared  books  flung  over  his  shoulder,  he  saun- 
tered down  the  green  New  England  lane  ;  —  rich  in 
the  glories  of  wild-roses  and  gaudy  thistle-blossoms  ; 
odor-ladened  by  groups  of  cedar  bushes  and  the  mel- 
low fragrance  of  old  orchards,  tuned  to  harmony  with 
the  chatter  of  blue  jays  and  the  operatic  notes  of  bob- 
olinks. Here  a  pebble  to  kick,  there  a  mullen  head 
to  switch  from  its  stalk;  now  a  puff-ball  to  crush 
with  his  heel,  a  rabbit  to  chase  in  the  brush,  and  an 
old  post  to  lean  against  with  hands  in  pockets  and 
books  flung  at  his  feet,  while  he  looked  and  whistled 
and  whistled  and  looked,  just  in  sheer  glee  and  relief 
that  the  day's  work  in  the  weather-stained  school- 
house  was  over.  Then  a  shout  and  a  run  down  the 
low  hill  that  ended  by  the  cottage  gate,  where  a  thin 
care-worn  woman,  with  fond  eyes,  wrapped  him  in  her 
arms  and  pressed  her  lips  lovingly  to  his  —  joyed  with 
him  in  his  joys  and  sorrowed  with  him  in  his  sorrows. 
No  wonder  that  the  lips  of  him  who  lay  on  the  hard 
floor  of  the  Lickskillet  lockup  murmured  the  name 
of  "  Mother."  The  purest,  truest,  holiest  being  that 
the  heart  of  man  ever  enshrined  for  its  idol  ! 

But  what  is  this  ?  There  is  the  noise  of  many 
voices  without  —  a  rush  of  many  feet.  The  door  of 
his  prison  resounds  to  a  heavy  blow.  The  sharp  point 


156  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

of  an-'tron  bar  is  thrust  between  the  jamb  and  the 
lock.  It  shivers  and  groans  with  the  pressure. 
Groans  as  if  in  protest  against  the  violence  about  to 
be  committed.  Then,  with  a  grinding  screech,  it  ilies 
open  and  the  Evangelist  springs  to  his  feet.  Springs 
to  his  feet  to.  be  confronted  by  a  judge  from  whose  de- 
cision there  is  no  appeal.  A  judge  whose  court  has 
flooded  this  fair  land  with  scenes  of  blood  and  mur- 
der. A  judge  whose  jury  is  the  brute  passions  of 
mankind.  The  abettor  of  spite,  vengeance,  igno- 
rance and  bigotry.  A  judge  who  knows  no  law  save 
the  law  of  might.  A  judge  who  he'd  his  court  on 
the  steps  of  the  guillotine,  in  the  mountain  haunts  of 
the  Covenanters,  and  in  the  streets  of  old  Venice. 
A  judge,  who  when  banished  in  loathing  from  the  old 
world,  brought  his  dread  court  to  the  new,  and  treads 
the  civilization,  the  Christianity  and  the  progress  of 
the  nineteenth  century  beneath  his  heel  in  this  fair 
land.  A  judge  who  daily  calls  upon  us*  by  his  acts, 
cited  in  the  public  press,  to  rise  and  hurl  him  from 
his  bench,  and  declare  ourselves  at  last  on  a  level  with 
the  enlightened  nations  of  the  earth.  JUDGE  LYNCH  ! 

As  Ilorton  arose  to  his  feet  he  encountered  this 
hideous  parody  upon  civilization  in  the  shape  of  two 
hundred  maddened  men.  Maddened  with  a  thirst  for 
human  life. 

"  Come  out  hyar  !  "  yelled  the  mob. 

"  Bring  him  out !  Bring  him  out !  Hang  thehoss 
thief!  Shoot  him!  We'll  rid  the  country  of  him! 
Rope  him  !  Rope  him  !  "  they  cried. 

There  were  many  men  in  the  crowd,  who  in  calm 
reflective  moments  would  have  shrunk  from  a  deed 


JUDGE  LYNCH  HOLDS  COUET.        157 

of  violence.  But  they  were  wild.  Wild  with  excite- 
ment. Wild  with  the  darkness  of  night.  Wild  with 
a  ^elf-heated  anger.  Wild  with  the  horribly  fantastic 
knowledge  that  a  human  life  was  in  their  hands  to  do 
just  as  they  pleased  with.  To  crush,  to  destroy,  to 
han<j  —  and  none  to  say  them  nay. 

"  For  God's  sake,  gentlemen,  what  will  you  do  with 
me  ? ''  cried  the  Evangelist. 

"  We'll  show  you  !  We'll  teach  you  to  steal  hos- 
ses !  "  they  veiled  for  an  answer. 

"  I  did  not  steal !  As  God  is  my  witness  I  am  no 
thief.  Time  will  prove  it.  Will  you  not  give  me  a 
chance  for  my  life  ?  "  he  pleaded  wildly. 

"  Dry  up  !  No  use  lying  now  !  We  know  what 
kind  of  watches  you  fellers  trade  for  hosses  !  "  and  a 
loud  laugh  greeted  this  last  witticism. 

Four  men  seized  the  protesting  man  and  running 
as  many  ropes  about  his  neck,  the}r  started  off,'  drag- 
ging him  along  the  road  in  the  clear  starlight,  the 
crowd  following  hooting  and  yelling.  The  ropes 
tightened  aroui'd  his  throat,  and  it  was  with  the  ut- 
most difficulty  he  kept  himself  from  being  strangled. 
Speak  he  could  not,  though  every  atom  of  his  body 
was  in  a  dreadful  quiver  with  that  appalling  sensation 
which  those  who  have  approached  close  to  a  horrible 
and  unexpected  death  alone  can  realize  or  understand. 

Yelling,  hooting  and  jeering,  the  crowd  dragged 
him  out  of  the  village  to  the  patch  of  woods  near  the 
country  church.  Every  thing  was  done  hurriedly. 
A  man  climbed  an  oak  tree  and  flung  a  rope  over  a 
sturdy  limb  into  the  hands  of  those  below.  At  this 
moment  the  Evangelist  found  tongue. 


158  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"Men!"  he  exclaimed.  "Men  or  brutes!  This 
is  murder  !  Murder  !  I  am  as  guiltless  of  stealing 
that  horse  as  the  child  unborn.  I  have  told  you  truth- 
fully how  I  came  by  it.  Will  you  kill  me  thus  with- 
out allowing  me  to  prove  my  innocence  ?  Are  you 
men,  are  you  human,  are  you  Christians  ?  Will  you 
deliberately  take  my  blood  upon  your  hands  ?  " 

But  a  voice  replied,  and  it  sounded  like  that  of 
Brother  Rockafellow,  though  the  man  had  a  handker- 
chief tied  over  his  face,  partly  concealing  it : 

"  Strangier,  make  yer  peace  with  the  Lord.  Thar's 
even  marcy  fur  such  as  you,  perhaps.  Hev  ye  the 
rope  ready  ?  " 

At  this  moment  a  new  comer  appeared  on  the 
scene.  It  was. the  lank,  thin,  care-worn  pastor  of  the 
little  church  ;  the  shepherd  of  this  thirsty  flock.  The 
noise  had  aroused  him  in  his  faded  cottage,  and  in 
great  perturbation  and  much  trembling  of  his  bony 
limbs,  and  rubbing  of  his  withered  hands  he  ap- 
proached to  see  what  it  was  all  about. 

"  It's  a  hoss  thief,  an'  in  a  minit  we're  going  tohev 
one  less  in  the  kentry,"  explained  the  mob. 

Instantly  the  thin,  lank,  trembling  pastor  was  trans- 
formed into  an  iron-nerved,  fearless  warrior  of  the 
Master's  army. 

"  Men,"  he  cried,  and  his  thin  voice  fairly  reached 
a  shriek  with  the  unaccustomed  energy  ;  "  men,  you 
shall  not  kill  the  man  !  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the 
Lord  !  A  murderer  shall  not  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  and  you  are  committing  murder !  In  the 
name  of  Jesus  I  implore  you  to  stop.  Hold  on.  Let 
me  alone.  Release  me.  I  will  get  to  him.  You  are 


JUDGE  LYNCH  HOLDS  COURT.        159 

savages.  How  dare  you,  sir  !  Don't  kill  him.  Stop, 
stop  ! "  and  hustled  back  by  the  crowd,  this  soul, 
worthier  of  a  nobler  tenement,  went  down  on  his 
knees  and  begged  and  prayed  that  they  would  hold 
their  vengeful  hands. 

"  He'll  not  preach  here  no  more."  "  We've  done 
with  him."  "  Conference  will  hev  to  give  us  another 
preacher."  "  Make  the  durned  old  fool  shet  up,"  and 
similar  hostile  expressions  were  unheard  or  unheeded. 
He  reproached,  begged,  threatened,  implored.  All 
was  wasted  upon  the  crowd.  The  tiger  was  loose. 
He  had  wetted  his  lips  in  imagination,  was  he  to  be 
cheated  of  his  prey  ?  The  good  man's  protestations 
and  supplications  were  alike  disregarded. 

"  At  least  let  me  pray  with  him.  Let  me  give  him 
the  consolation  of  our  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  in 
these,  his  last  moments  upon  earth,"  he  implored. 

This  request  was  at  first  refused,  but  ultimately  re- 
luctantly granted,  with  the  observation  that  they  could 
not  see  what  the  old  idiot  wanted  to  make  so  much 
fuss  over  a  durned  hoss  thief  for.  The  good  man 
shook  Horton  by  the  hand,  and  spoke  consolingly  to 
him,  giving  him  such  sympathy  as  he  could,  and  beg- 
ging him  to  turn  his  thoughts  on  Him  who  died  for 
all. 

A  great  change  had  come  over  the  Evangelist.  He 
no  longer  supplicated  for  life,  nor  indeed  did  he  pay 
much  attention  to  those  around  him.  Perhaps  he 
saw  how  useless  it  was  to  search  for  their  feelings. 
Perchance  his  thoughts  were  far  away  and  death  had 
lost  its  terrors.  To  a  question  of  his  only  friend  he 
replied : 


A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  No,  I  have  no  relatives.  There  are  none  that  I 
would  care  to  acquaint  with  my  fate.  But  I  am  an 
innocent  man.  Here,  standing-  on  the  brink  of  Eter- 
nity, without  a  hope  for  this  world,  about  to  be  ush- 
ered,all  unheralded,  all  unsummoned,  into  the  presence 
of  Him  who  gave  me  life,  I  would  not  deceive  you.  I 
am  innocent.  And  I  solemnly  adjure  you  at  whose 
hands  I  perish  that  in  the  future,  when  you  have  found 
out  the  mistake  of  your  crime,  that  it  shall  ever  be  a 
warning  to  you  to  hold  more  sacred  that  life  which 
God  has  given,  and  which,  though  you  may  take,  you 
cannot  replace.  And  may  He  forgive  you.  as  I  for- 
give you." 

A  man  now  flung  the  noose  of  the  rope  over  his 
head.  Others  roughly  ordered  the  minister  out  of 
the  way,  and  the  good  man  affectionately  embracing 
Horton  and  bidding  him  good-bye,  retreated  to  the 
church  steps,  and  seating  himself,  with  face  upturned 
and  eyes  flowing  tears,  sang  in  a  thin  treble  voice : 

"  Jesus,  Saviour  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly." 

At  the  moment  the  rope  was  tightening  on  the  vic- 
tim's neck,  there  occurred  a  commotion  on  the  outer 
edge  of  the  crowd,  and  breathless  and  hatless  Ben 
forced  his  way  through  and  up  to  the  unfortunate 
companion  of  his  wanderings. 

"  Hold  !  "  he  cried,  "  hold  I  This  man  is  innocent. 
I  was  with  him  when  he  traded  his  watch  for  that 
horse.  You  are  murdering  an  innocent  man  !  " 

"  Who're  you  ?  "  roughly  enquired  a  number. 

"  He's  the  man  who  was  with  me  when  I  got  the 
horse  ;  the  man  I  told  you  of.  He  will  prove  that  I 
did  not  steal  it,"  calmly  replied  Horton. 


JITDC,E    LYNCH   HOLDS    COURT.  161 

"  That's  a  likely  story  !  "  exclaimed  a  voice. 

"  Thief  a  helpin'  thief!  "  shouted  another. 

"  He's  another  hoss  thief !  " 

"  We've  got  'em  both  !  Hang  'em  both !  Make  a 
clean  sweep  and  clean  the  kentry  of  them  ! "  yelled 
the  crowd. 

"  I  am  no  thief !  "  cried  Ben.  "  My  name  is  Ben- 
jamin Cleveland.  Boston  is  my  home.  I  am  walk- 
ing to  New  Orleans  on  a  wager.  You  can  prove  it  by 
telegraph  and  hang  me  if  it  is  not  so." 

A  derisive  laugh  greeted  this  information. 

"  Walkin'  to  New  Orleans,  air  ye  ?  Well  ye'll  hev 
to  walk  another  route,  and  a  warmer  one  !  " 

"  Rope  him  !  Rope  him  !  Let's  clean  the  State 
of  the  villains,  and  leave  'em  hanging  up  as  a  warn- 
ing!" 

As  this  was  shouted  Ben  felt  a  rope  thrown  over 
his  neck,  and  the  next  instant  both  he  and  the  Evan- 
gelist were  jerked  into  the  air  amid  a  chorus  of  yells. 
There  was  a  confused  murmur  of  voices  beneath  him. 
He  struggled  and  kicked.  Tried  to  loose  the  rope 
that  was  strangling  him  with  his  hands.  The  froth 
oozed  from  his  mouth.  The  confined  blood  seemed 
bursting  his  head.  Ten  thousand  bells  were  clanging 
in  his  ears.  He  tried  to  cry  out.  A  low  gurgle  es- 
caped him.  Then  all  grew  black  and  blank. 

When  Ben  regained  consciousness  he  was  lying  at 
the  foot  of  the  oak  tree  with  a  loosened  rope  around 
his  neck.  His  head  seemed  gigantic  in  its  size  and 
his  lips  were  parched.  The  grey  light  of  morning 
was  struggling  over  the  eastern  hills.  Not  a  soul  was 
in  sight.  No,  —  not  a  soul. 


102  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

But  turning  his  eyes  upward  they  encountered  a 
sight  that  caused  him  to  close  them  again  with  a  groan 
of  horror.  For  there,  swinging  gently  to  and  fro,  in 
the  morning  breeze,  hung  the  stiff,  lifeless  body  of 
Horton  the  Evangelist.  His  eyes  bulging  from  their 
sockets,  his  swollen  tongue  protruding  from  his  mouth, 
and  his  gaunt  face  tinted  with  the  leaden  palor  of 
stagnant  blood. 

Dead !     Hung  by  the  neck.     Dead  ! 

As  the  eye  of  God  came  grandly  up  over  the  east- 
ern horizon,  it  glanced  upon  awakening  nature,  and 
fell  upon  that  hideous,  untenanted  clod  of  abused 
clay,  that  gently  swung  from  the  sturdy  oak.  And 
as  it  glanced  on  the  ruin  and  devastation  the  little 
church  fell  in  its  way.  And  it  took  the  shadow  of 
the  steeple  along  over  the  road  and  over  the  open 
space,  to  the  woods,  clean  to  the  foot  of  the  oak  tree, 
up  which  it  pointed  like  some  avenging  finger.  Up 
and  still  up  crept  the  shadow  until  it  reached  the  body 
of  the  dead  man  with  the  weather  vane.  And,  Lo  ! 
When  Ben  again  dared  to  lift  his  eyes,  there,  on  the 
stark,  still,  pulseless  breast  of  the  Evangelist,  was 

THE   SHADOW  OF  THE   CKOSS  ! " 


THE  GREAT  HARVEST  RANGE.        163 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  GREAT  HARVEST  RANGE. 

TURN  we  now  to  record  more  grateful  scenes. 
Let  us  leave  the  black  cross  on  the  breast  of 
the  dead  man.  The  dead  man  swinging  in  the  morn- 
ing breeze.  Our  backs  are  turned  upon  an  unknown, 
moundless  grave,  down  in  a  sandy,  barren  jack-oak 
field.  A  shallow  grave  over  which  no  head  stone  tells 
the  passer  by  that  all  flesh  is  grass.  A  grave  on 
which  the  startled  rabbit  pauses,  with  ears  erect,  to 
heed  the  breaking  of  a  twig.  A  grave  on  which  the 
quail  pipes  forth  his  cheering  notes  in  the  glimmer  of 
the  dawn,  and  the  prairie  grouse  crows  good  night  to 
the  setting  sun.  A  grave  in  which  lies  mouldering  a 
monument  to  the  reign  of  the  lawless  judge.  A  grave 
in  which  is  secreted  the  prey  of  the  human  tiger. 
The  occupant  of  the  grave  has  found  rest  at  last. 
His  tramp  is  o'er.  He  sleeps  the  sleep  that  knows  no 
waking,  he  dreams  the  dream  that  knows  no  breaking. 
That  there  is  only  one  occupant  of  the  shallow 
grave  down  in  the  black-jack  barren  is  due  to  the  ex- 
ertions of  the  man  with  whom  Ben  ate  supper  the 
previous  evening.  He  it  was  who  extended  aid  to 


164  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

our  hero  in  his  dire  distress  and  saved  his  life. 
Through  his  intercessions  Cleveland  was  lowered  from 
the  limb  and  spared.  Like  one  walking  in  his  sleep, 
his  mind  and  energies  paralyzed  by  the  dreadful  scene 
through  which  he  had  passed,  Ben  made  a  futile  at- 
tempt to  justify-  his  dead  friend's  memory.  He  only 
met  with  repulses  —  nay,  threats.  No  one  would  be- 
lieve him,  none  give  credence  to  his  tale.  He  found 
none  who  had  witnessed  the  hanging,  none  who  would 
talk  about  it,  but  plenty  who  with  frowning  eyes  and 
threatening  looks  turned  their  backs  upon  him  when 
he  attempted  to  speak  of  it.  Had  Ben  appeared  be- 
fore that  bulwark  of  the  law  —  that  greatest  of  all 
great  American  impositions  —  the  Grand  Jury,  and 
told  his  tale  of  the  crime,  the  Grand  Jury  could  not 
have  laid  its  indicting  hand  on  a  single  man  who  had 
hud  any  thing  to  do  with  the  hanging.  He  did  not 
know  this,  nor  did  he  appreciate  the  people  he  was 
among.  He  called  for  justice,  and  came  near  getting 
a  flogging.  One  not  unfavorable  result  was  accom- 
plished by  his  pertinacious  search  after  justification, 
however.  Though  he  did  not  find  the  blind  goddess, 
he  found  a  railway  ticket  that  conveyed  him  out  of 
the  State,  and  two  hundred  miles  westward.  His 
presence  became  disagreeable  to  the  citizens  of  Lick- 
skillet.  The  tiger  had  glutted  himself  and  was 
drowsy.  He  did  not  like  to  be  disturbed. 

A  delegation  of  two  benevolent  citizens  waited 
upon  him  and  informed  him  that  from  the  plentitude 
of  their  hearts,  and  the  charitable  nature  of  their 
dispositions  they  were  not  only  willing  to  condone  his 
recent  acts  and  view  his  crimes  with  a  lenient  eye, 


THE  GREAT  HARVEST  RANGE.        165 

but  they  would  aid  him  on  his  journey,  and  provide 
him  with  a  railroad  ticket  to  a  distant  point,  with  the 
stipulation  that  his  foot  should  never  press  their  sod 
again,  and  a  gentle  intimation  that  his  own  particular 
rope  would  be  carefully  preserved  for  his  own  partic- 
ular use.  The  offer  came  in  the  shape  of  a  command. 
With  a  stubbornness,  peculiarly  his  own,  Ben  would 
have  rejected  it.  He  would  have  staid  and  fought 
to  the  death  there  and  then  for  his  dead  friend's 
memory.  But  the  poor,  thin,  lank  parson  came  to 
him.  The  good  man  trembled  lest  the  tiger  should 
be  roused  from  his  slumber.  He  knew  the  beast  for 
had  he  not  dwelt  beneath  the  velvet  of  its  paw  for 
many  a  day  ?  He  demonstrated  to  our  hero  the  futil- 
ity of  one  man,  and  he  a  penniless  stranger,  at- 
tempting the  indictment  of  an  entire  community 
bound  together  by  ties  of  blood,  relationship,  interest 
and  —  crime.  A  community  that  was  a  law  unto  it- 
self. Ben  gathered  a  clearer  view  of  the  case  from 
the  good  man's  explanations. 

So  Ben  was  placed  on  board  of  a  train,  and  whirled 
away  into  Egypt. 

Or,  to  speak  more  lucidly,  into  the  very  centre  of 
Southern  Illinois.  And  despite  the  sad  incidents  that 
had  thronged  the  past  forty-eight  hours  of  his  exis- 
tence, as  he  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  station 
where  the  ticket  expired  and  the  train  deposited  him, 
he  made  the  reflection : 

"  Nine  clays  and  nine  hundred  miles  from  New 
York  !  One  hundred  miles  from  St.  Louis  !  "  and  the 
nine  days  seemed  nine  ages,  and  the  nine  hundred 
miles  seemed  so  many  worlds,  separating  him  from  the 


166  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Benjamin  Cleveland  he  had  parted  from  and  the  life 
he  had  left,  in  the  far  east.  And  for  the  first  time 
since  the  commencement  of  his  tramp,  he  felt  alone 
and  lonely. 

Tramps !  Ben  thought  he  had  met  many  of  the 
brotherhood  before,  but  he  now  found  himself  on 
their  great  summer  range.  The  solitary  free-rider  or 
small  detachments  of  two  and  three,  now  swelled  to 
squads  numbering  so  high  as  a  dozen. 

In  fact  he  had  been  dropped  by  the  train  on  the 
Great  Harvest  Route,  extending  from  the  wheat  fields 
of  Minnesota,  diagonally  across  the  State  of  Iowa', 
crossing  the  Mississippi  at  Davenport,  and  thence  ex- 
tending clear  down  into  the  southern  half  of  Illinois. 
A  strip  of  country  five  hundred  miles  long,  that  may 
appropriately  be  termed  the  Harvest  Range.  The 
herd  commences  to  move  northward  early  in  July. 
Starting  in  the  neighborhood  of  Du  Quoin  or  Bell- 
ville,  it  follows  up  the  harvest,  heading  northwest,  and" 
ending  the  summer's  incursion  during  the  months  of 
September  and  October  in  Minnesota.  An  eastern 
person  has  no  conception  of  the  vast  army  of  impe- 
cuniosities  forming  this  great  herd  of  harvest  tramps. 
Forth  they  come  from  the  purlieus  of  cities,  from  hos- 
pitals, work-houses,  poor-houses,  soup-houses,  and  the 
various  charitable  asylums  that  have  harbored  them 
during  the  winter  and  spring.  Up  from  the  orange- 
scented  south  ;  from  the  pampas  of  Texas  ;  the  stave- 
timber  of  Arkansas,  the  cotton-fields  of  Mississippi ; 
and  from  those  bon-resorts  of  the  fraternity  in  the 
river  towns  on  the  Father  of  Waters  —  "  Pinch  "  in 
Memphis,  "  Under  the  Hill "  in  Natchez,  k'  Elephant 


THE  GREAT  HARVEST  RANGE.       167 

Johnnie's  "  and  "  Smoke  Town  "  in  New  Orleans,  and 
other  celebrated  haunts,  where  an  existence  (such  as 
it  is)  has  been  dragged  through  for  five  months  of 
the  year.  They  crowd  the  river  boats;  they  haunt 
the  wood-pile  landings,  they  line  the  tracks  and  cap- 
ture the  trains  on  their  way  to  the  joys  and  fattenings 
of  the  Harvest  Range.  Once  on  the  Range  and  life 
smiles  upon  them.  Back  doors  know  them  so  well 
that  during  the  favored  period,  the  good  housewife 
responds  to  each  knock  with  a  chunk  of  bread  in  one 
hand  and  a  hunk  of  meat  in  the  other,  awaiting  no 
solicitations.  And  how  does  the  herd  graze  ?  They 
graze  off  of  the  charity  of  a  community  mellow  with 
the  ripeness  of  harvest-time.  There  help  is  needed  — 
they  are  the  monarchs  of  the  hour. 

They  become  despotic.  They  will  not  solicit  work. 
Work  must  solicit  them.  Their  labor  is  an  article  in 
demand,  and  the  price  goes  up,  up,  up.  There  are 
special  rates  paid  during  harvest  —  paid  at  no  other 
season.  In  the  years  immediately  succeeding  the  war 
harvest  hands  received  as  high  as  five  dollars  per  day 
—  and  were  not  content.  They  never  are.  If  wages 
are  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents,  they  demand  three 
dollars.  If  three  they  ask  for  four.  It  is  their  har- 
vest-time ;  and  without  a  cent  in  their  pockets  and 
existing  on  the  bread  of  charit}',  they  will  hold  out 
for  days  together,  in  idleness,  rather  than  work  for 
less  than  they  demand. 

Then  a  few  days  work ;  a  glorious  spree  in  which 
their  earnings  disappear ;  and  they  move  off  along 
the  Range.  As  the  harvest  retreats  north  they  fol- 
low it.  Neither  benefitted  in  purse  or  person  by  the 
labor  they  irregularly  perform. 


168  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

The  dram  shops  do  a  thriving  business.  Scenes  of 
lawlessness  are  numerous,  and  battles  with  towns  that 
have  tired  of  their  arrogant  idleness  and  mendicancy 
frequently  occur.  Railroads  are  blockaded  with  them. 
Road  employees  lead  a  life  of  trouble,  terror  and  tur- 
moil. Incidents  have  been  where  they  have  seized 
trains.  They  hesitate  at  nothing.  Every  year  the 
herd  becomes  larger,  —  every  year  its  chance  for  hon- 
est labor  smaller  and  smaller.  There  is  a  great  enemy 
eating  up  their  range ;  destroying  their  stamping- 
grounds.  It  is  invention.  Where  seven  men  held 
stations  and  bound  in  a  field,  three  men  on  a  harvester 
now  do  the  same  amount  of  work.  What  will  you  do 
with  the  idle  four  ?  Where  three  men  labored  on  a 
harvester,  one  now  drives  and  the  automatic  binder 
makes  the  sheaves.  What  will  you  do  with  the  idle 
two? 

"  Make  producers  of  them." 

Good.  Who  will  make  the  consumers,  were  each 
to  produce  for  himself  ? 

On  to  the  north  —  to  the  great  grain  fields  of  Min- 
nesota—  go  the  herd.  And  then  they  come  back 
again ;  but  no  longer  the  solid  army  that  marched 
north.  Fleeing  from  the  cold  they  come  down  in 
fragments.  By  boat,  raft,  arid  skiff  down  the  great 
river.  By  tramping,  and  jumping  the  trains.  By 
every  conceivable  method  of  travelling  they  make 
their  way  south.  Where  was  this  herd  twenty-five 
years  ago  ?  We  do  not  know.  Like  the  Texas  cat- 
tle trade,  it  is  a  growth  of  the  present  decade. 

It  was  this  Harvest  Range  that  Ben  now  found 
himself  crossing.  The  herd  had  left.  It  was  far  to 


THE  GREAT  HARVEST  RANGE.        169 

the  north.  Remnants  of  it  were  numerous,  however. 
Tramps  who  had  tired  of  following  the  trail.  Sharp 
tramps  who  cutely  remained  to  fatten  on  the  deserted 
pastures.  Sharper  tramps  who  sought  the  lower  ren- 
dezvous before  the  herd  returned.  Crippled  members 
of  the  fraternity,  left  behind.  Parties  that  the  law 
had  detained.  The  stragglers  formed  quite  a  respect- 
able army  still. 

At  least  our  hero  thought  so,  shortly  after  enscon- 
cing himself  in  an  empty  box  car  on  a  western  bound 
freight,  late  that  night.  It  was  the  only  empty  and 
open  car  in  the  train,  and  he  was  congratulating  him- 
self upon  holding  exclusive  possession  of  it  when  a 
gang  of  four  invaded  his  privacy,  and  in  passing  the 
next  three  stations  the  excursionists  had  augmented 
to  fifteen  souls.  Of  course  the  train  employees  be- 
came aware  of  their  presence,  and  ordered  them  off 
twice.  The  first  time  they  all  got  out  and  going 
around  to  the  other  side  all  got  in  again.  On  a  repe- 
tition of  the  order  to  dismount  they  merely  laughed 
and  chaffed  the  conductor.  The  conductor  tele- 
graphed the  state  of  affairs  to  Maidensville  and  called 
for  help  to  eject  them.  The  operator  made  the  dis- 
patch public,  and  the  citizens  of  Maidensville  were 
apprised  of  their  approaching  visitors.  The  tramps 
were  not  blind  to  these  matters.  Expecting  a  forci- 
ble ejectment  and  arrest  when  they  arrived  at  Maid- 
ensville, they  guarded  against  it  by  refusing  to  allo\v 
the  train  men  to  close  the  doors  and  lock  them  in,  in- 
tending to  jump  from  the  trainbefore  it  drew  up  at  the 
station.  But  the  engineer  threw  his  valves  wide  open 
and  ran  his  train  into  the  depot  at  a  rate  that  pre- 


170  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

vented  the  squad  from  leaving  until  it  finally  stopped. 
When  it  did  so  a  surprise  awaited  all  parties.  A  del- 
egation of  citizens  was  on  hand  with  bread  and  cheese. 
It  begged  the  tramps  to  remain  in  the  car  and  par- 
take of  the  food,  intimating  an  immediate  arrest  for 
any  who  dismounted.  They  were  also  informed  that 
their  ride  to  St.  Louis  was  paid  for,  and  the  conduc- 
tor discovered  to  his  chagrin,  that,  by  telegraph,  the 
citizens  of  Maidensville  had  chartered  empty  box  car 
No.  1073  to  convey  a  load  of  live  stock  from  Maidens- 
ville to  St.  Louis  —  that  day  and  date.  The  conduc- 
tor opened  his  -eyes.  The  citizens  smiled  broadly. 
And  the  fair  city  of  Maidensville  was  relieved  from 
her  unwelcome  guests. 

With  much  hiliarity  the  excursionists  completed 
their  ride  into  East  St.  Louis,  where  they  arrived  at 
noon.  But  what  was  Ben's  dismay  to  find  a  small 
squad  of  police  ready  to  receive  them  as  they  dis- 
mounted !  Alas,  here  he  was  again,  for  the  second 
time  during  his  journey,  under  arrest ! 

The  crowd  was  taken  before  the  mayor,  arranged  in 
a  platoon,  charged  with  vagrancy,  asked  no  questions, 
permitted  no  defence,  found  guilty, — and  sentenced 
to  sixty  days  in  the  work  house,  and  a  fine  of  fifty 
dollars,  each  !  Good-bye  to  New  Orleans.  Good-bye 
to  the  twenty  thousand  dollars.  Good-bye  to  the 
great,  glorious,  grey  eyes.  Our  hero  was  fairly 
floored.  Indignation  at  this  summary  treatment  was 
swallowed  up  in  amazement.  Struck  dumb  with  the 
overwhelming  nature  of  his  disaster,  with  drooping 
head  and  downcast  eyes  he  followed  his  companions 
in  misery  out  of  the  court  room.  They  traversed  sev- 


THE  GREAT  HARVEST  RANGE.       171 

eral  streets,  closely  attended  by  policemen,  and  at 
last  neared  the  river.  The  tall  chimneys  and  acres 
of  roofs  of  smoke-curtained  St.  Louis  arose  on 
the  opposite  bank.  Our  friend's  heart  gave  a  great 
leap.  There  was  the  city  that  had  filled  his  mind 
these  many  days.  There  was  where  he  was  to  have 
again  seen  her.  There  was  the  half-way  house  of  his 
tramp.  Once  in  it  and  his  journey  would  have 
seemed  more  like  an  accomplished  fact,  having  at- 
tained the  first  objective  point  in  the  stipulations  of 
his  wager.  And  there  it  was,  just  across  the  river  — 
so  near  and  yet  so  far  !  A  mile  of  water,  sixty  days 
imprisonment,  and  fifty  dollars  fine,  separating  them. 
Wild  thoughts  entered  his  head. 

He  would  break  from  his  captors  and  rushing  to 
the  stream  plunge  in  and  swim  for  the  opposite  shore. 
Which,  had  he  done,  he  might  quite  possibly  have 
reached  New  Orleans,  but  it  would  have  been  in  a 
very  unenviable  state.  This  desperate  notion  was 
forming  itself  into  a  determination  when  his  atten- 
tion was  arrested  by  the  voice  of  the  officer  in  charge 
of  the  squad. 

"Men,"  said  that  official,  "yonder's  St.  Louis, 
where  you  all  want  to  go.  Remember,  if  you  are 
caught  on  this  side  again,  up  you  go  for  sixty  days. 
Here  are  your  ferry  tickets.  Now  git ! " 

It  was  tit  for  tat.  "  Illinois  Town "  was  paying 
St.  Louis  in  her  own  currenc}^.  That  morning  the 
"  Future  Great-"  had  shipped,  by  rail,  half  a  dozen 
of  her  paupers  to  Chicago.  That  afternoon  the  "  Fu- 
ture Great "  received  a  consignment  of  sixteen  tramps 
from  "  Illinois  Town." 


172  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

CUE   HEEO  BEACHES   ST.   LOUIS. 

AS  Ben  placed  his  foot  on  the  Missouri  shore,  he 
cried  aloud  with  an  exultant  thrill  vibrating 
every  fibre  of  his  body  :  "  St.  Louis  !  Ten  days  and 
ten  hundred  miles  from  New  York !  Hurrah  for  New 
Orleans  !  "  and  his  emotions  were  such  that  he  could 
fairly  have  turned  a  double  somersault  and  cracked 
his  heels  for  joy.  Then  as  his  feelings  quieted  down, 
"  Now  for  New  Orleans,"  he  said.  But  how  ?  That 
was  the  rub. 

The  levee  was  lined  with  steamboats.  Boats  with 
wheels  behind  them  like  aquatic  wheel-barrows,  and 
boats  with  wheels  at  their  sides  like  folded  wings. 
River  crafts  piled  deck  upon  deck  until  the  pilot- 
house, perched  on  top  of  the  "  Texas  "  looked  like  a 
bird  cage.  A.  forest  of  black  smoke  stacks  interspersed 
with  golden  balls  and  gilded  figures  of  eagles/horses, 
cotton-bales,  barrels,  and  various  devices.  Some  of 
the  stacks  belching  forth  smoke  like  the  nostrils  of  a 
live  monster;  others  silent  and  grim.  Light  draught 
stern-wheelers  in  the  Big  Muddy  trade,  that  ran  way 
up  into  the  mystic  region  of  the  Yellow  Stone  in  the 


OTJE   HERO   REACHES   ST.   LOUIS.  173 

spring  and  came  down  in  the  fall,  taking  up  with 
them  Indian  annuities  and  government  supplies,  and 
bringing  down  bullet-holes  in  their  pilot-houses  from 
the  rifles  of  ungrateful  savages  who  cannot  understand 
why  white  men  should  take  their  land  from  them  and 
pay  them  in  phantom  beeves  and  unkept  treaties.  Ohio 
river  tow  boats  —  stern-wheelers  also  —  but  aquatic 
giants.  Boats  that  think  nothing  of  butting  their 
square  heads  against  four  solid  acres  of  coal  flats, 
twelve  feet  deep,  and  shoving  the  whole  field  to  the 
lower  river  coaling  grounds  —  their  very  machinery 
a  load  sinking  them  deep  in  the  water,  and  well  wor- 
thy of  their  names,  "  Ajax,"  "  Hercules,"  "Colossal," 
and  so  on.  Raft  boats  from  the  St.  Croix,  Black 
River  and  Chippewa,  with  their  holds  stowed  full  of 
great  coils  of  rope.  Trading  boats  from  the  Illinois, 
Tennessee,  Arkansas,  White  and  Red  Rivers  —  boats 
that  somehow  bore  about  them  a  romantic  aroma  of 
travel  and  adventure.  Wrecking  boats  and  stump- 
pullers —  that  dredge  the  bottom  of  the  river  from  St. 
Louis  to  the  Gulf.  Vast  floating  palaces  in  the  Mem- 
phis, Vicksburg,  and  New  Orleans  trade  —  their  long, 
fairy-like  and  gorgeous  cabins  elevated  on  stilts,  way 
high  up  above  the  hulls.  Boats  that  could  laugh  at 
sixteen  hundred  tons  of  freight,  and  stow  five  thou- 
sand bales  of  cotton !  A  solid  two  miles  of  these 
crafts,  thick  as  they  could  lie,  all  with  their  great 
round  blunt  noses  hanging  on  the  levees. 

And  then  the  humanity  gathered  about  them  — 
Diego  and  African,  native  and  foreigner  —  people 
from  all  over  the  world.  Acres  of  cotton  bales,  regi- 
ments of  hides  in  bundles,  barricades  of  salt,  ramparts 


174  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

of  sugar  hogsheads  ;  all  being  constantly  added  to  by 
a  supply  from  the  bowels  of  the  monsters  on  the  le- 
vee, while  down  their  capacious  maws  was  poured  a 
stream  of  flour  in  barrels,  grain  in  sacks  and  other 
productions  of  the  stomach-supplying  north.  It  was 
a  scene  of  life  and  activity,  such  as  Ben  had  never 
before  witnessed.  A  wonderful  picture  of  commerce 
proving  in  stronger  tongue  than  any  wordy  argument 
the  necessity  of  an  undivided  North  and  South  —  a 

UNION  ! 

Ben  gazed  and.  wondered,  and  wondered  and  gazed, 
and  the  more  his  eyes  discovered,  the  more  they 
sought  for  ;  while  up  against  the  sky  loomed  that 
chef-d'oeuvre  of  modern  engineering,  the  famous 
bridge.  He  leaned  against  a  cotton-bale  and  gave 
his  eyes  a  holiday.  And  well  he  might,  for  the  picture 
has  not  its  equal 'in  all  the  world. 

A  light  touch  on  his  arm  aroused  him.  He  turned 
and  saw  —  Tommy  !  Little  Tommy  whom  he  felt  he 
had  known  for  years,  instead  of  days. 

"  Ha,  ha !  I  thought  I'd  find  you  on  the  levee 
sometime,"  he  exclaimed.  "  All  the  '  bums  '  sun 
themselves  here !  " 

Save  that  he  was  a  trifle  thinner  and  his  round  cheek 
had  lost  some  of  its  bloom,  the  boy  looked  much  as 
he  did  when  Ben  parted  with  him  in  Harrisburg.  The 
sparkling  brown  eyes  were  the  same  and  the  ring  of 
his  voice  had  lost  none  of  its  silver  as  he  danced 
around  Ben  crying  : 

"  Bennie,  old  boy,  I'm  awful  glad  to  see  you !  I 
am  indeed.  But  how  thin  you  are !  Poor  Bennie. 
He'll  never  make  a  first  class  cadjer,  so  he  won't 


OUR    IIEHO    REACHES    ST.    LOUIS.  175 

And,  my  eyes  !  How  ragged  and  dirty  !  Why  don't 
you  rent  yourself  out  for  a  museum  of  hard  times? 
I  hunted,  and  hunted,  and  hunted,  for  you  all  along 
the  road,  but  I  must  have  been  ahead  of  you.  I  came 
through  on  express  trains,  I  did.  Sometimes  on  the 
roof,  sometimes  on  the  pilot,  sometimes  on  the  plat- 
form, and  sometimes  inside — -until  I'd  get  bounced. 
I  made  myself  bomb-proof  with  an  old  shirt  and  six- 
teen newspapers,  and  I'm  thinking  they  hurt  their 
boots  more  than  they  hurt  me.  Laugh  again,  Bennie. 
I  like  to  see  you  laugh  —  you've  got  such  pretty 
teeth.  And  now  you're  blushing !  Oh,  Ben,  aint 
you  ashamed  !  There's  no  use,  I  may  as  well  give 
you  up  for  a  bad  job  ;  you  will  never  be  an  ornament 
to  the  profession  ;  never  make  a  first-class  war-horse. 
Now  tell  me  all  about  where  you  have  been,  and  how 
you  have  been,  and  —  and  everything !  ''  and  Tommy 
quite  out  of  words  and  wind,  stopped  exhausted. 

Ben  was  glad  to  meet  a  friendly  face  in  the  great 
strange  city,  and  boy  though  Tommy  was,  he  felt 
grateful  for  his  friendship. 

"  But,  Tommy,  I  have  not  told  you  all,"  said  our 
hero  after  briefly  relating  his  experience  on  the  tramp. 
*'  Do  you  know  that  I  have  seen  you  since  you  saw 
me?" 

Tommy  looked  his  surprise  and  answered  : 

"No!     Where?" 

"In  Pittsburg,"  and  Ben  told  him  how  he  had 
stood  and  listened  to  the  conversation  between  Black- 
oat  and  Nipper,  and  how  Tommy  had  appeared  and 
disappeared. 

Had  Ben  been  more  attentive  or  observant  of  his 


17G  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

little  friend  he  would  have  noticed  that  the  hand  on 
his  arm  trembled,  and  the  boy's  cheek  paled  as  he 
mcniioned  Blackoat's  name.  But  he  did  not,  and 
\vhen  he  looked  up,  Tommy's  face  was  a  burning  red, 
filled  with  confusion. 

"  What  a  gilly  you  are,  Ben  ! "  he  said.  "  You 
made  a  mistake  in  the  dark.  It  was  some  one  else 
you  saw  and  could  not  have  been  me,  for  I  didn't  stop 
in  Pittsburg. 

Cleveland  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Tommy,  are  you  telling  me  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Truth  positive,  Benjamin !  "  With  an  endorsing 
nod  of  the  head.  "  Don't  you  believe  me  ?  " 

Ben  reflected  a  moment  before  he  answered,  and 
when  he  did  the  words  came  slow,  as  though  he  was 
trying  to  persuade  himself  that  he  meant  what  he  said. 

"  Yes,  Tommy  —  I  believe  you.  But  I  was  never 
before  so  mistaken  in  my  life.  Never  in  my  life." 

"  It  was  a  queer  delusion,"  returned  Tom  ;  and 
there  the  matter  dropped. 

"  And  which  way  now,  friend  Ben  ?  You  have 
reached  your  destination,  your  pilgrimage  is  over, 
there's  to  be  a  fatted  calf,  a  purple  robe  and  a  gold 
ring!  Is  that  the  programme ?" 

u  No,  not  quite,"  answered  Ben,  smiling.  "  The 
fact  is  my  pilgrimage  is  only  half  over,  Tommy.  I 
am  going  to  New  Orleans  " 

"  To  New  Orleans  !  Why  you  told  me  St.  Louis  !  " 
cried  the  boy  in  surprise. 

"  Very  well,  and  am  I  not  come  to  St.  Louis  ?  " 

"  Yes,  true  enough;  but  you  do  not  remain  here  ?" 

"  No,  my  boy.     New  Orleans  is  my  destination.     I 


OUIt   HE11O   REACHES    ST.    LOUIS.  177 

have  some  moneyed  interests  there  —  if  I  get  there 
in  time.  If  I  don't,  —  well  —  the  interests  are  quite 
as  heavy  but  not  of  a  financial  nature." 

"  All  this  is  a  mystery  to  me,  Ben,  and  I  don't  ask 
for  your  confidence,"  said  Tommy,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  ;  "  but  when  is  it  necessary  for  you  to  be  in 
New  Orleans  ?  " 

"  At  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  second  of 
next  month;  just  eleven  days  from  to-day,"  replied 
Ben. 

"  Why  you  have  lots  of  time  !  I  could  go  to  Mex- 
ico by  that  time,"  said  Tom  encouragingly.  "  I  don't 
care  if  I  take  a  trip  down  the  river  with  you,  Ben. 
Which  way  are  you  going  ?  " 

Ben  expressed  himself  pleased  at  the  prospect  of 
his  little  friend's  company,  and  thought  the  river 
would  be  their  best  route. 

"  So  it  is,  undoubtedly,"  said  Tommy.  "You  can 
go  from  St.  Louis  to  New  Orleans  for  four  dollars  on 
deck.  Have  you  four  dollars  ?" 

Ben  confessed  that  he  had  not.  That  all  his  cash 
assets  consisted  of  ten  cents,  the  remnant  of  the  twen- 
ty-five he  had  received  from  the  dray-man  in  New 
Jersey  City. 

"  What,  you  have  the  dime  yet  ?  How  saving  you 
are  !  "  cried  the  other.  "  But  a  dime  won't  take  you 
to  New  Orleans.  Not  by  river.  Say,  you  fellow, 
how' 11  a  fellow  get  to  New  Orleans  ?  " 

This  last  query  was  propounded  to  a  picturesque  rep- 
resentative of  the  fraternity  who  was  sunning  him- 
self on  a  neighboring  cotton -bale. 

"New   Orleans?     Why  buy   a   railroad  «and  ride 


178  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

down,"  replied  the  party  addressed,  leisurely  turning 
over  on  his  'side,  with  his  face  toward  our  friend's. 

"  Oh,  come,  partner,  give  us  a  square  answer,"  ex- 
postulated Tommy.  "  We  want  to  get  down  there." 

At  this  the  man  sat  up  on  the  cotton-bale  and  re- 
quested a  chew  of  tobacco,  having  obtained  which  he 
leisurely  continued : 

"  You  can  go  to  New  Orleans  lots  of  ways.  You 
can  walk  down  'long  the  levees.  Lot's  of  'em  does 
that.  You  can  beat  your  way  by  boat.  Lots  of  'em 
does  that.  You  can  go  from  here  to  Cairo  by  boat  or 
rail  and  then  beat  your  way  from  Cairo  over  the  Jack- 
son and  Great  Northern.  Lot's  of  'em  do  that. 
That's  the  way  most  of  the  lake  men  go  down  in  the 
fall,  and  the  cotton  pickers  come  up  in  the  spring. 
The  other  big  north  and  south  road  for  the  bums  is 
the  Texas  route.  And  a  very  good  road  it  is.  After 
you  get  to  Poplar  Bluffs  —  that's  the  end  of  the  first 
division  —  it's  clear  s'ailing  down  to  '  Texarkanna. 
That's  a  boss  town  too.  Stands  half  in  Texas  and 
half  in  Arkansas.  That's  where  it  got  that  name. 
You  can  shoot  a  man  in  Texas  and  go  across  the  track 
and  be  in  Arkansas,  or  wicey  wersey,  which  makes  it 
very  convenient  for  the  inhabitants.  That  road  runs 
catacornered  across  Arkansas,  and  its  got  to  be  a  great 
cotton  route  from  Texas,  which  has  made  it  very  con- 
venient for  tramps." 

"  Yes,  that's  all  right ;  but  how  about  the  New  Or- 
leans route  ?  "  interrupted  Tommy,  afraid  lest  the  new 
brother  if  he  continued  would  get  over  into  Asia  and 
commence  barge-lining  the  Ganges. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  a  saying,  you  can  go  from  here  to 


OUB   HEKO   BEACHES   ST.   LOUIS.  179 

Texas,  easy  as  you  please,  on  the  Iron  Mountain  road. 
I  'spose  four  thousand  tramps  go  down  along  it  every 
winter  and  come  up  every  spring.  They're  the  Texas 
Rangers  of  '76  — 1876  !  "  and  he  grinned. 

"  But  is  it  a  good  route  t^o  New  Orleans  ?  "  asked 
Ben,  who  was  afraid  the  professional  was  again  about 
to  desert  his  subject. 

"No  ;  it's  a  better  route  to  Texas,"  replied  he. 

"  But  we  want  to  go  to  New  Orleans,"  protested 
Cleveland. 

"  Don't  you  be  a  fool  and  go  to  New  Orleans  when 
you  can  get  to  Texas,"  advised  their  irrelevant  in- 
formant. 

"  New  Orleans  is  crowded  with  tramps  every  win- 
ter. So  is  all  the  South,  though  they  don't  howl 
about  the  matter  the  way  they  do  up  North.  You 
let  New  Orleans  alone.  You  go  to  Texas  and  be  a 
Ranger ! " 

"  A  Ranger  ?     What  sort  ?  "  asked  Tommy. 

"  Range  all  over  the  country  after  handouts,"  re- 
plied the  professional  with  another  grin. 

"  You  keep  telling  us  about  Texas  and  we  are  not 
going  to  Texas,"  said  Ben. 

"  More  fool  you,"  placidly  commented  the  Ranger. 
"  Texas  is  a  good  state." 

Ben  was  in  despair  of  ever  getting  information 
from  this  source,  but  made  one  last  effort  to  obtain  it 
by  asking  the  garrulous  professional  if  they  could  get 
to  New  Orleans  by  the  Iron  Mountain  road. 

"  Well,  you  can  and  you  can't,"  was  the  highly  un- 
satisfactory answer.  "  You  can  go  from  here  to  Lit- 
tle Rock,  and  can  there  get  off  on  the  Memphis  and 


180  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Little  Rock  Road.  That  road  would  take  you  to  the 
river  right  opposite  Memphis." 

"  Then  it  won't  take  us  to  New  Orleans  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  You'd  have  to  jump  a  boat  from  Mem- 
phis. But  I  say !  Why  in  thunder  don't  you  jump  a 
boat  here  ?  That's  your  best  plan.  Jump  any  of  the 
New  Orleans  steamers  an'  keep  your  eye  peeled  for 
the  clerk  when  he  comes  around.  I  see  my  buddy  up 
the  levee.  Good-bye.  Take  the  boat.  Better  go  to 
Texas  though.  Might  strike  a  Mexican  revolution. 
Have  one  every  new  moon.  Go  to  Texas.  That's 
my  notion,"  and  shouting  back  these  fragments  of  ad- 
vice, the  professional  withdrew  up  the  levee  and  was 
soon  lost  in  the  crowd. 

"  There  Tom,"  said  Ben,  "  we'll  have  to  go  by 
boat." 

"  I  was  aware  of  that  long  ago,"  coolly  replied 
Tommy.  "  Do  you  see  that  big  boat  down  there  with 
the  horns  on  her  jack- staff  ?  That  is  the  Argenta. 
She  leaves  for  New  Orleans  to-morrow  afternoon  at 
four  o'clock,  and  you  and  I  will  go  on  her." 

This  matter  definitely  arranged  the  two  friends 
walked  up  the  levee. 


A  SHAVE  WHICH  HAS  A  RESULT.  181 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

A   SHAVE   WHICH   HAS  A  RESULT. 

TOMMY,  have  you  seen  any  one  since  you 
came  to  St.  Louis  ? "  asked  Ben. 

"  Seen  any  one  !  Why  of  course —  I've  seen  thou- 
sands," replied  the  boy  stopping  and  looking  Ben  in 
the  face. 

"  I  mean  have  you  seen  any  one  that  I  know  ?  "  ex- 
plained Ben. 

"  Any  one  that  you  know !  That's  a  singular  ques- 
tion. Pray  whom  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Come,  Tom,  you  know  there  is  only  one  we  Loth 
know.  Have  you  seen  —  her  ?  " 

"  Her  ?  "  said  Tommy  obtusely.  "  Pray  now  who's 
her?" 

"  Be  serious,  Tom.  There  is  only  one  her,  and  you 
know  the  one  I  mean.  You  said  I  would  see  them  in 
St.  Louis.  Are  they  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  it ! "  cried  Tommy  petulantly,  and  a 
shade  of  disappointment  crossed  his  bright  face. 
"•  You  men  are  such  fools !  You  never  see  a  pretty 
face  but  you  must  fall  in  love  with  it '  "  and  then  the 
boy  stopped,  and  stammered,  and  blushed,  as  though 
in  some  way  he  had  committed  himself. 


182  A  TIGHT  SQUEEZE. 

But  Ben  was  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  and  did 
not  notice  his  companion's  confusion. 

"  Never  mind  my  failings,  Tom.  Perhaps  you  will 
have  the  same  when  you  get  to  be  a  man." 

"  Mebbe"  replied  Tommy  sententiously. 

"  Tell  me  then,  is  the  young  lady  and  her  compan- 
ions here  ?  " 

Tommy's  looks  and  manner  suddenly  underwent  a 
startling  change.  The  light-hearted  cheerful-faced 
boy  was  suddenly  transformed  into  a  grave,  thoughtful 
person,  and  on  his  countenance  was  a  look  of  anxiety 
and  even  a  shadow  of  hatred,  giving  his  face  an  ex- 
pression that  startled  Ben.  After  a  moment's  silence, 
he  replied,  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground : 

"  Yes,  they  are  here.  She  is  here.  You  wish  to 
see  her  ?  " 

"  I  do,  I  do,"  exclaimed  Cleveland. 

"And  for  what  earthly  good  or  purpose?"  petu- 
lantly asked  Tom. 

This  caused  our  hero  to  stop  and  look  troubled. 
.  "  True,"  he  muttered,  "  for  what  end  or  for  what 
purpose?  Would  she  look  at  me — me  a  tramp! 
Preposterous  !  And  yet  I  would  like  to  see  her,  if 
only  for  the  pleasure  of  basking  in  the  glow  of  those 
heavenly  eyes.  For  what  good  or  purpose  ?  Who 
may  tell  ?  I  have  as  much  right  to  win  her  as  any 
one.  Pshaw  !  What  an  idiot  am  I !  " 

And  yet  he  was  as  sensible  as  the  majority  of  man- 
kind, and  had  only  been  indulging  in  the  pleasant 
pastime  of  constructing  air  castles.  Without  ties  of 
home  or  kindred  to  claim  his  thoughts  during  the  long 
days  and  nights  of  the  tramp,  his  mind  had  constantly 


A   SHAVE  WHICH   HAS   A   RESULT.  183 

reverted  to  this  young  woman,  and  builded  in  his  heart 
a  creation  that  had  at  last  taken  full  occupancy  of  it. 
No  wonder  then  when  his  daydreams  were  about  to  be 
brought  face  to  face  with  reality  the  practical  com- 
mon-sense of  his  nature  had  a  hard  struggle  with  the 
fascinations  of  imagination.  Tommy  observed  him 
closely  and  probably  understood  what  was  transpir- 
ing* in  his  mind. 

•'  Ben,"  he  said,  "  I  have  heard  that  all  men  are 
fools  when  in  love,  and  I  think  you  must  be  in  love. 
That's  no  concern  of  mine  however,  only  mind  you, 
young  man,  after  you  have  been  well  scorched,  come 
to  me  and  I'll  tell  you  something  about  love  !  " 

There  was  such  a  peculiarly  bitter  and  sarcastic  ex- 
pression in  the  boy's  tone  and  face  that  it  recalled 
Ben's  wits  from  dreamland  with  a  jump  and  he  de- 
voted his  attention  to  his  companion. 

"  Well,  rooster,  what  is  it  about  love  that  you  pro- 
fess to  know  so  much  ?  Are  you  in  love  ?  "  he  asked 
with  a  smile. 

"  No,  but  I  had  a  friend  once  who  was,"  replied 
the  youth. 

"  And  what  became  of  him  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  It  wasn't  a  him,  it  was  a  '  she '  /  And  this  *  she  ' 
fell  in  love.  Love!  It  was  something  more  than 
love  —  it  was  worship  !  She  gave  up  home,  friends, 
happiness,  salvation  —  everything  did  she  sacrifice  on 
the  altar  of  her  love  —  and  as  a  natural  consequence 
she  awoke  to  find  the  sacrifice  rejected." 

"  And  what  became  of  her  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  She  had  her  revenge  !  She  turned  dressmaker 
and  never  had  her  work  done  when  she  promised !  " 


184  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

and  Tommy  gave  a  whoop  and  a  shrill  laugh.  "  There 
my  boy,"  he  continued,  patronizingly  patting  Ben  on 
the  back,  "  you  didn't  look  for  that  windup,  did  you? 
Never  mind.  When  your  fair  maid  rejects  you,  you 
and  111  join  hands  and  tramp  all  the  rest  of  our  lives 
together.  But  I'm  a  true  prophet,  Ben;  I  told  you 
you  should  see  those  people  here,  and  so  you  shall. 
And  now  in  return  for  the  service  I  am  about  to  ren- 
der you,  you  must  promise  that  you  will  ask  no  ques- 
tions. Do  you  promise  ?  " 

Ben  promised  most  faithfully,  and  the  boy  con- 
tin  ed: 

"  You  shall  see  her  to-day." 

"  But  what  is  her  name,  Tommy  ?  "  asked  our  hero. 

"  There  you  go,  breaking  your  promise  already. 
I'll  forgive  you  this  time,  only  don't  do  it  again.  I 
don't  know  her  name  —  at  least  only  her  Christian 
name.  That  is  Bertha.  A  woman,  to-day,  gave  me 
a  note  to  deliver  to  her.  I  am  to  be  on  Olive  Street, 
between  Eighth  and  Ninth  this  afternoon,  at  five 
o'clock,  and  hand  it  to  her  as  she  comes  along.  The 
woman  gave  me  ten  cents  for  doing  it.  I  transfer  the 
duty  to  you  and  we  will  go  and  dine  off  of  the  ten 
cents.  Come  on." 

The  two  friends  thereupon  dined  with  the  aid  of 
the  ten  cents.  To  be  sure  it  was  not  an  extravagant 
repast,  consisting  simply  of  two  great  sheets  of  gin- 
ger-bread, known  on  the  levee  as  "  stage-planks  "  ; 
but  keen  appetites  made  them  palatable,  and  with 
plenty  of  water  they  possessed  filling  properties  to  a 
remarkable  degree. 

Ben  then  turned  up  Olive  Street  alone,  and  as  he 


A   SHAVE   WHICH  HAS   A  RESULT.  185 

walked  along  the  thronged  thoroughfare  felt,  for  the 
first  time  during  his  tramp,  thoroughly  ashamed  of 
himself.  Could  it  be  that  the  dirty,  ragged,  slouch- 
ing, unshaved,  unkempt  reflection  he  saw  in  the  plate 
glass  windows,  was  the  Benjamin  Cleveland  he  had 
known  in  other  days  ?  Impossible  !  And  yet  too 
true.  The  effects  of  his  tramp  had  altered  him  won- 
derfully. 

The  elements,  combined  with  coal  dust  and  dirt, 
had  bronzed  his  skin.  A  nine  days'  growth  of  beard 
stuck  out  in  prickly  profusion  on  his  face.  The  hat, 
that  had  been  shapely  in  New  York,  resembled  a  felt 
pouch  on  which  an  elephant  had  stepped.  His  clothes 
hung  on  him  strangely.  Altogether  he  hardly  recog- 
nized himself. 

"  And  she,"  thought  he,  "  what  will  she  think  ? 
I've  ten  cents  and  I'll  have  a  shave  if  it  sends  me  into 
bankruptcy,  and  look  a  little  more  human." 

When  he  came  out  of  the  barber's  hands  he  cer- 
tainly did  look  greatly  improved  and  his  clothes  seemed 
to  fit  him  better. 

Having  reached  Ninth  Street  he  stationed  himself 
on  a  corner  and  awaited  the  owner  of  the  great,  glo- 
rious grey  eyes.  He  was  looking  for  two  glowing 
eyes  in  a  head  wrapped  up  in  a  snowy  nubia. 

So  it  is  with  us  all.  Our  last  remembrance  holds 
tenaciously  upon  its  pictures ;  and  refuses  to  surren- 
der them  to  the  march  of  time  and  events.  After 
years  have  changed  the  faces  and  scenes  we  love,  we 
return  to  them  expecting  to  find  them  the  same  as 
when  we  left,  and  feel  a  dull  pain  when  we  find  that 
our  memories  of  the  past  belong  to  the  past,  and  are 


186  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

not  heirs  of  the  present.  So  Ben  stood,  gazing  down 
the  street  in  search  of  a  white  nutiia,  and  was  fairly 
startled  into  open-mouthed  amazement  when  a  voice 
nearly  opposite  to  him  said : 

"  Bertha,  dear,  I  am  so  sorry  that  you  can  not  re- 
main with  us  until  next  week,  if  not  longer.  Must 
you  positively  go  to-morrow  ?  " 

And  the  person  addressed  replied  : 

"  I  should  like  to,  Mary,  but  uncle  says  he  posi- 
tively must  go." 

The  voice  of  the  lady  brought  'Ben's  senses  back, 
and  there,  right  before  his  eyes,  was  the  object  of  his 
worship  —  more  lovely,  more  beautiful,  he  thought, 
than  he  had  ever  pictured  her. 

Bertha  certainly  was  gifted  with  good  looks  far 
more  generously  than  her  sisters.  To  be  sure  she  no 
longer  wore  a  billowy  mass  of  white  worsted  about 
her  head,  that  Ben's  picture  was  familiar  with,  but  in 
its  place  was  a  saucy  little  hat  that  turned  up  behind, 
and  an  ostrich  feather  that  turned  up  in  front ;  and 
at  the  back  of  the  head  and  under  the  cocked-up  rim 
of  the  hat  was  a  great  roll  of  chestnut  hair,  with  each 
particular  hair  leading  from  the  snowy  neck  thereto 
drawn  as  tight  and  as  smooth  as  the  top-hamper  of  a 
man-of-war.  Two  pretty  shell-like  ears,  that  this  pe- 
culiar mode  of  hair-dressing  made  stand  out  from  their 
owner's  head  like  a  pair  of  little  wings,  were  kept 
from  flying  away  by  two  diminutive  soltaire  anchors. 
Under  the  feather  and  under  a  broad  expanse  of  snowy 
forehead — roofed  over  by  the  architecture  of  the 
saucy  hat  —  beamed  forth  the  eyes  that  had  so  effect- 
ually fastened  themselves  in  Ben's  soul.  They  were 


A   SHAVE   WHICH   HAS   A   RESULT.  187 

lustrous  grey  orbs  in  which *the  sunlight  of  high  noon 
seemed  to  have  lost  itself.  Deep  and  thoughtful,  they 
were,  beaming  in  purity  and  confidence ;  alive  with 
kind  promptings,  and  singing  an  undying  melody  of 
love  and  faith.  Just  such  eyes  as  we  do  sometimes 
see,  and  ever  after  remember. 

And  they  lighted  up  a  face  worthy  to  bask  in 
their  sunshine.  She  was  dressed  richly,  but  taste- 
fully, with  every  external  evidence  of  wealth  and  re- 
finement. Poor  Ben's  heart  sank  within  him.  When 
now  brought  face  to  face  with  the  object  of  his  ador- 
ation all  his  sanguine  hopes  went  down  below  zero, 
and  the  airy  castles  of  his  daydreams  crumbled  to 
dust.  How  could  he  aspire  to  this  elegantly  attired 
and  lovely  formed  mass  of  femininity  !  Absurd  !  He 
in  rags  and  she  in  silks  !  Preposterous  !  He  an  un- 
known tramp,  she  a  wealthy  belle !  Outrageous ! 
He  hastily  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  he  was  a 
fool,  and  immediately  called  himself  one. 


188  <A.  TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

OFF    FOR    NEW   ORLEANS. 

WHILE  all  this  was  transpiring,  (in  Ben's  mind) 
the  young  ladies  had  gathered  up  their  trains 
in  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  extended  by  way  of 
a  balancing  pole  —  and  because  the  attitude  is  sup- 
posed to  be  graceful  —  were  picking  their  way  through 
the  mud  of  the  crossing  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street.  The  recollection  that  he  had  a  letter  to  de- 
liver flashed  upon  our  friend's  mind,  and  he  hastily 
followed  them. 

"  Miss,  I  am  commissioned  to  deliver  this  to  you," 
he  said,  politely  lifting  the  felt  pouch  from  his  head. 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  was  about 
to  pass  on  without  taking  the  missive.  Then  she  ap- 
peared to  change  her  mind  and  asked : 

"  Who  sent  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  from  a  lady,  a  stranger  to  me,"  replied  Ben. 

"  Ah,  I  understand.  Thank  you  ;  "  and  before  Ben 
knew  what  had  transpired  she  had  taken  the  note,  and 
from  a  dainty  pocket-book  had  placed  a  bright  half- 
dollar  in  his  hand. 

When  he  recovered  himself  both  young  ladies  were 


OFF  FOR   NEW    ORLEANS.  189 

half  a  block  away,  and  he  staring  after  them  stupidly. 
That  was  all.  She  hud  not  only  not  recognized  him, 
but  scarce  observed  Jiim  at  all,  and  in  the  little  recog- 
nition of  himself  and  services  that  had  been  bestowed 
was  an  air  of  condescension,  and  haughtiness  of  high- 
breeding,  that  left  the  impression  in  his  mind  of  an 
utterly  impassable  gulf  between  them.  Slowly  he 
turned  and  walked  toward  the  levee,  humbled  and  mor- 
tified, and  with  a  singular  notion  forcing  itself  in  upon 
his  humiliation  that  his  ten  cents,  expended  in  a  shave, 
had  been  money  thrown  away.  His  castles  had  not 
only  tumbled  down,  but  they  had  buried  him  in  the 
ruins.  For  several  blocks  Tie  crushed  the  half-dollar 
in  his  hand,  as  though  it  were  the  author  of  his  mis- 
eries and  disappointments.  Then,  in  a  moment  of 
wounded  pride  and  passion,  he  flung  it  far  into  the 
street,  and  felt  better. 

"  What  an  ass  I  am,"  he  said  bitterly,  "  to  think 
that  she  would  have  noticed  me  !  Who  or  what  am  I 
that  she  should  grant  me  the  courtesy  of  a  recogni- 
tion ?  I  am  an  ass,  that  is  what  I  am.  And  I'll  get 
to  New  Orleans  as  quickly  as  I  can,  and  if  I  am  suc- 
cessful sail  from  there  to  Europe,  and  see  if  I  can't 
pick  up  some  common-sense  over  there  where  all  the 
rest  of  my  countrymen  lose  what  little  they  have." 

"  For  Memphis,  Vicksburg  and  New  Orleans.  Tlie 
swift  and  palatial  '  ARGENTA  ' ;  SPARBAR,  Master; 
QUILLBTJCKER,  Clerk ;  will  leave  St.  Louis  at  4  P. 
M.,  to-daij.  For  freight  or  passage  apply  on  board." 

The  "  Argenta  '?  was  the  pride  of  the  western  wa- 
ters. She  it  was  that  ran  the  celebrated  race  with 
the  "Chief  there  several  years  ago.  Both  boats 


190  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

were  advertised  to  go  on  their  usual  journey  in  a 
quiet,  orderly,  non-contesting  manner.  The  captains 
knew  nothing  about  any  race.  The  clerks  knew  noth- 
ing about  any  race.  The  mates,  engineer,  fireman, 
deck  hands  and  roustabouts  knew  nothing  about  any 
race.  Nobody  knew  any  thing  about  any  race.  So 
when  the  boats  backed  away  from  the  New  Orleans 
levee  out  into  the  broad  river  there  were  thousands 
of  persons  there  to  witness  their  departure  and  thou- 
sands of  dollars  wagered  upon  them.  Both  were 
stripped  to  the  belt. 

Every  thing  that  would  oaten  wind  or  water  was  laid 
aside.  Machinery  carefully  looked  to,  polished  and 
oiled.  Superfluous  weights  removed  and  both  crafts 
prepared  for  the  contest  that  no  one  knew  any  thing 
about.  As  a  result  of  all  this  stripping  the  Argenta 
came  into  St.  Louis  ahead  of  the  Chief,  and  several 
thousand  sanguine  individuals  were  stripped  of  their 
spare  change  for  many  months  thereafter.  It  was  the 
"  wind  up  "  of  Mississippi  yachting.  A  peaceful  epi- 
logue to  a  long  drama  of  bursted  boilers,  murdered 
men,  scalded  deck  hands  and  drowned  passengers. 
Racing  on  the  western  waters  is  out  of  date  and  out 
of  fashion. 

With  deep  intonings  the  Argenta's  great  bell 
sounded  its  final  notes  of  solemn  warning.  The  ap- 
ple venders  and  orange  peddlers  sprang  to  the  shore. 
The  short-card  men,  fakirs,  and  magic-knife  and  thim- 
ble-rig manipulators  deserted  their  prey.  The  huge 
stage  was  drawn  in  and  up.  The  "  last  man  "  came 
rushing  down  the  levee,  bag  in  hand,  and  was  taken 
on  board  on  a  single  plank.  There  was  a  great  Jang- 


OFF  FOB   NEW   ORLEANS.  191 

ling  of  small  bells  —  a  moment's  silence  —  and  then 
with  a  rush  and  a  roar,  amid  the  batter  of  big  paddle- 
wheels,  churning  of  water,  clank  of  machinery,  pul- 
sations of  the  great  exhausts,  and  the  shouts  of  the 
crowd  on  shore,  the  Argenta  backed  from  her  berth 
into  the  stream,  lay  a  second  or  two  motionless  in  the 
waters,  and  then  turned  her  nose  to  the  south,  and 
sped  for  New  Orleans  I 


192  A  TIGHT  SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

A  NIGHT   ON   DECK. 

BEN  sat  on  a  barrel,  looking  about  him  in  won- 
der. Fifty  negro  roustabouts,  great  sable  Her- 
cules they  were  —  scarce  half  civilized  —  secured  and 
arranged  the  freight  and  ropes  on  deck  for  their  trip, 
talking  the  while  a  mellow-voiced  gibberish  that  he 
could  but  half  understand.  The  mate,  as  great  a 
savage  as  the  blacks,  though  wearing  a  white  skin, 
and  whose  reputation  was  based  upon  the  fact  of  his 
having  killed  three  roustabouts,  directed  them  some- 
thing after  the  fashion  of  driving  cattle.  Ben  thought 
he  had  a  more  extensive  repertoire  of  great  big  round- 
cornered  oaths  than  any  blasphemy-belching  monster 
he  had  ever  seen  or  heard  tell  of.  Our  friend  won- 
dered the  darkies  stood  the  abuse.  He  thought  that 
being  freemen,  brothers  and  voters  they  would  have 
taken  umbrage  at  the  aspersions,  imprecations  and 
anathemas  hurled  at  them.  He  found  they  rather 
liked  it,  and  worked  to  the  tune  of  the  mate's  profan- 
ity much  like  a  mule  team  does  to  the  jingling  bells 
above  its  hanies.  Previous  to  the  war  a  negro  was 
worth  more  than  a  white  man.  Now  a  white  man  is 


A  NIGHT   ON  DECK.  193 

worth  just  as  much  as  a  black.  The  war  elevated  the 
white  race.  To  understand  this  matter  the  reader 
must  know  that  these  roustabout  crews  are  not  al- 
ways composed  of  black  men.  Some  steamers  carry 
mixed  crews  —  that  is  white  and  black  men  working 
together.  Previous  to  the  war  if  a  mixed  crew  were 
"  up  cottoning  "  the  heavy  bales  gathered  from  along 
the  river  and  an  accident  occurred,  followed  by  a 
splash  and  the  cry  "  man  overboard  ! "  the  captain 
would  anxiously  ask,  "  white  or  black  ?  "  If  the  an- 
swer was  "  black  "  the  boat  was  stopped,  life  preserv- 
ers flung  overboard,  and  every  exertion  made  to  save 
the  unfortunate  from  a  stream  that  swallows  up  the 
strongest  swimmer.  If  "  white,"  however,  the  cap- 
tain looked  relieved  and  sang  out  to  the  pilot,  "  All 
right !  Go  ahead !  "  That  was  before  the  war.  Now 
no  questions  are  asked.  It  is  "  All  right,  go  ahead," 
any  way. 

These  hard-worked  members  of  the  lowest  class  of 
labor  in  the  country  (one  of  the  best  paid,  however) 
passed  and  repassed  Ben,  piling  up  the  bags  of  grain, 
tier  upon  tier,  until  they  touched  the  bottom  of  the 
deck  above.  On  the  front  of  the  hull,  out  in  the  open 
air,  stood  the  battery  of  boilers,  reaching  back  nearly 
to  the  wheel-house,  the  few  feet  of  intervening  space 
on  the  guards  being  occupied  on  the  port  side  by  the 
kitchen,  and  on  the  larboard  by  the  bakery.  The 
Argenta's  culinary  department  numbering  a  little  army 
of  thirty  persons  —  cooks,  bakers,  assistants  and 
waiters.  There  were  a  hundred  head  of  new  milch 
cows  on  deck,  each  side  of  the  battery  of  boilers, 
going  south  where  they  would  continue  to  give  milk 


194  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

for  two  or  three  years,  and  then  dry  up  like  all  cows 
in  the  far  south.  Texas,  a  state  with  more  cows  in  it 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  Union  combined,  imports  her 
butter  and  cheese,  and  does  without  milk.  Back,  aft 
of  the  wheel-houses,  on  the  guards  were  a  lot  of  Mis- 
souri mules.  These  with  a  pet  pig  that  followed  the 
roustabouts  around,  a  few  dogs  belonging  to  passen- 
gers, and  several  coops  full  of  noisy  chickens  and 
geese  made  the  boat  appear  to  Ben  something  like 
Noah's  ark.  While  he  was  amusing  himself  in  ob- 
serving these  things,  Tommy  came  to  him.  With  his 
usual  business  energy  Tommy  had  been  looking  over 
the  vessel,  selecting  "  stowing  "  places  and  informing 
himself  of  the  clerk's  movements. 

"  We  are  all  safe  for  below  Cairo,  any  way,  Ben," 
said  he.  "  The  clerk  don't  come  around  until  after 
the  boat  leaves  there  ;  he's  too  busy.  We  won't  be 
in  Cairo  until  to-morrow,  so  we  needn't  mind  keeping 
out  of  the  way  until  then.  Let's  go  back  aft  and  see 
the  fun." 

Night  had  now  settled  on  the  waters.  Lamps  were 
lit  and  lanterns  hung  about  the  boat.  Back  aft  a 
scene  that  Hogarth's  pencil  would  have  revelled  in, 
met  them.  Between  the  mountain  load  of  grain 
sacks  that  occupied  the  center  of  the  boat  and  the 
vessel's  stern,  was  an  open  space  about  thirty  feet 
square.  In  the  center  of  this  stood  a  long  sheet-iron 
stove,  and  around  this  stove  was  gathered  a  motley 
crowd  of  poverty-stricken  humanity,  roasting  pota- 
toes and  parching  corn,  purloined  from  the  sacks. 
Care,  want,  dirt,  and  misery  had  established  them- 
selves on  their  pinched  faces,  and  the  one  lantern  that 


A  NIGHT   ON   DECK.  195 

hung  in  the  open  space  giving  light  to  the  crowd 
painted  their  tatterdemalion  coverings  with  fantastic 
effect. 

"  Those  are  dead-brokes,  every  one  of  'era,"  said 
Tommy,  "  going  to  try  to  beat  the  boat  down.  We 
will  have  lots  of  company." 

Too  much,  entirely  too  much,  thought  Ben.  He  could 
have  spared  some  of  it.  Walking  about  the  narrow 
limits  and  seated  on  bags,  boxes,  and  the  floor,  were  a 
lot  of  migrative  birds.  Sailors  from  the  Lakes,  who, 
having  spent  their  summer  on  the  great  "unsalted 
seas,"  were  now  going  down  to  the  Gulf  to  secure 
berths  on  "wind-jammers."  Laborers,  going  south 
in  search  of  work  among  the  compresses  and  on  the 
levees.  Other  professional  knights  of  the  spade  and 
barrow,  bound  for  the  fascination  of  the  "  dumps  " 
and  the  festive  "jiggers."  There  were  several  of  the 
gentler  sex  seated  around.  Not  lone-lorn  women,  but 
women  in  collusion  with  members  of  the  sterner  sex 
who  were  there.  Wives,  perhaps.  Charitably,  per- 
haps. The  yoke  of  wedlock  is  not  so  hard  to  shift 
on  and  off  in  a  certain  class  of  society  as  it  is  in  that 
to  which  the  gentle  reader  belongs,  perchance. 

The  lady  voyagers  were  travelling  on  various  busi' 
nesses.  To  "  keep  shanty  "  at  some  levee  camp  ;  or 
pass  the  winter  south  with  some  friends  —  not  exactly 
a  visit  of  pleasure  either.  Rather  antiquated  and  a 
trifle  worse  for  wear  they  were  too.  But  the  gentle- 
men treated  them  gallantly.  Passed  them  the  circu- 
lating bottle  with  a  "  Drink  hearty,  miss  !  It's  paid 
for ! "  and  boiled  coffee  in  pots  and  oyster  cans  for 
them  on  the  stove.  Expectorating  tobacco-juice  and 


196  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

depositing  superanuated  quids  outside  the  limits  of 
their  immediate  vicinity,  and,  in  fact,  "  paid  them 
those  thousand  and  one  little  attentions  which  are  so 
grateful  to  the  gentler  sex  when  coming  from  gentle- 
men." (The  last  expression  is  in  quotations  on  ac- 
count of  not  being  altogether  original.) 

There  was  one  female  present  whom  there  could  be 
no  doubts  about,  however,  even  had  she  not  loudly 
pronounced  herself  "  A  high  old  gal,  you  bet !  "  sev- 
eral times,  greatly  to  the  edification  of  the  crowd 
about  the  stove,  and  the  virtuous  indignation  of  the 
members  of  her  own  sex,  who  carefully  withdrew 
their  skirts  from  her.  This  woman,  though  young 
and  not  ill-looking,  was  a  "gun  boat  "  fragment  that 
had  drifted  off  and  found  herself  on  board  the  Ar- 
genta. 

Gun  boats?  In  every  large  city  there  is  a  portion 
of  the  town  that  visiting  officials  from  other  cities  are 
not  driven  through  on  aldermanic  rides  of  courtesy. 
Perhaps  the  local  dignitaries  would  think  it  deroga- 
tory to  have  a  knowledge  of  them  — r  perhaps  they 
leave  their  visitors  to  hunt  up  the  town  for  themselves. 
So  have  the  water-ways  of  the  west  a  floating  life 
upon  them  to  which  we  are  not  anxious  to  introduce 
the  reader  on  this  trip  down  the  river.  The  young 
lady  in  question  circulated  among  the  crowd  with  a 
freedom  and  ease  of  deportment  that  astonished  Ben. 

"  It  is  terrible,"  said  he  to  Tommy. 

"  It's  disgusting !  "  replied  Tom. 

"  And  yet  how  many  poor  lost  ones  there  are  who 
come  down  this  low,"  continued  Cleveland. 

And  Tommy,  growing  a  little   pale,  and  looking 


A   NIGHT   ON  DECK.  197 

upon  the  "  fragment "  with  loathing  and  pity  said 
quietly  :  "  Yes,  man's  victim  has  no  half-way  station 
on  the  road  to  wreck  and  ruin,"  and  the  boy  walked 
away,  to  the  forward  part  of  the  boat,  where  he  sat 
down  on  a  coil  of  rope  and  gazed  fixedly  at  the  black 
river. 

There  was  much  drinking  and  subdued  carousing 
being  indulged  in.  Songs  were  sung  and  jigs  were 
danced,  and  the  crowd  seemed  determined  to  inaug- 
urate their  pilgrimage  by  a  general  time  of  festivities. 
The  center  of  attraction,  however,  was  a  negro,  black 
as  black  could  be,  who  was  conducting  the  fascinating 
game  of  chuck-a-luck  in  one  corner;  a  cadaverous 
countenanced,  thin-lipped,  hawk-nosed  white  man  act- 
ing as  banker.  The  chuck-a-luck  bank  was  not  a 
very  extensive  affair,  consisting  simply  of  an  empty 
cracker  box  mounted  on  a  grain  sack,  with  numerals 
from  one  to  six  inscribed  upon  it  with  chalk.  Be- 
hind the  box  the  black  dealer  manipulated  the  dice, 
and  at  his  side  the  white  hawk  drew  in  the  nickels 
and  small  change  of  those  in  front.  Two  short  stumps 
of  tallow  candles,  permanently  located  in  their  own 
grease,  stood  on  the  box  and  illuminated  proceedings. 
This  scene,  peculiar  to  the  river,  was  a  novel  one  to 
Ben.  It  was  full  of  life  and  full  of  vice. 

As  the  night  advanced  the  crowd  thinned.  Some 
went  to  sleep  on  the  mountain  of  grain  sacks.  Others 
cleaned  up  a  place  on  the  floor  and  lay  down,  while 
others  went  forward  and  crept  under  the.  boilers,  for 
their  warmth.  Black  and  white  lay  down  together. 
Ben  still  watched  the  scene,  which  though  quieted 
down,  was  still  attractive  from  its  novelty.  The  gun- 


198  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

boat  visitor  having  satisfied  every  one  that  she  was  a 
"  High  old  gal,  you  bet !  "  borrowed  a  nickel  from  a 
susceptible  tourist  and  proceeded  to  invest  in  the 
chuck-a  luck  bank.  She  won,  and  greeted  her  suc- 
cess with  a  shout  of  triumph  that  startled  the  sleep- 
ers. But  luck  soon  turned  against  her  and  she  be- 
came peevish,  abusive  and  belligerent ;  claimed  that 
the  black  dealer  "  fingered "  his  dice,  and  suggested 
the  propriety  of  dispensing  with  his  services  and  de- 
voting his  body  to  the  flood.  She  became  an  annoy- 
ance to  the  game,  and  the  hawk  tried  to  buy  her  off 
with  a  bribe  of  two  nickels,  which  she  accepted,  but 
immediately  staked  them  on  the  ace.  The  ace  lost, 
and  with  a  whoop,  the  damsel  sent  the  box  spinning 
toward  the  boiler-deck  by  a  kick,  scattering  dice,  can- 
dles, nickels  and  small  change  in  all  directions.  In 
the  crowd  of  tatterdemalions  toasting  potatoes,  and 
parching  corn  at  the  stove,  were  men  of  action  —  men 
who  seize  opportunities.  The  single  lantern  went  out 
in  a  twinkle,  and  in  black  darkness,  Ben  felt  a  writh- 
ing, struggling,  kicking  mass  of  humanity  on  the  floor. 
Blows,  yells,  laughter,  curses  and  groans  filled  the 
confined  limits  of  the  "deck."  A  pistol  was  dis- 
charged. Some  one  cried,  "I'm  shot!"  And  the 
mate  with  half  a  dozen  watchmen  appeared  with  lan- 
terns and  clubs  upon  the  scene.  With  the  clubs  they 
untied  the  human  knot  on  the  floor.  The  gun  boat 
visitor  being  dragged  from  the  bottom  of  the  heap  in 
a  sadly  demoralized  condition,  but  stoutly  clutching  a 
handful  of  curly  black  wool.  The  tatterdemalions 
looked  still  more  tattered,  but  happy  and  contented, 
as  though  they  had  enjoyed  themselves.  The  hawk 


A  NIGHT   ON   DECK.  199 

and  the  banker  arose  bankrupt.  All  struggled  to 
their  feet.  No.  Not  all.  One  man  did  not  move  ; 
not  even  after  the  mate  kicked  him  several  times. 
They  then  rolled  him  over  and  pointed  out  the  bullet 
hole  in  his  head.  The  man  was  dead.  No  one  knew 
who  fired  the  shot,  or  why.  No  particular  investiga- 
tion was  made.  He  was  a  deck  passenger,  and  what 
are  deck  passengers?  Human  live  stock  —  and  not  a 
very  choice  breed  either.  So  they  rolled  the  dead 
man  off  to  one  side  and  at  Cairo  he  received  about 
fifteen  minutes'  attention  from  a  coroner's  jury,  (who 
made  the  discovery  that  he  was  killed  by  being  shot) 
and  about  twenty-five  minutes  from  a  jobbing  under- 
taker. The  captain  of  the  Argenta  paid  all  expenses 
rather  than  have  the  boat  detained,  and  who  the  dead 
man  was  or  where  he  lived  are  secrets  buried  with  him. 
Ben  climbed  the  mountain  of  grain  sacks  in  com- 
pany with  Tommy,  the  two  went  to  sleep  immediately 
under  one  of  the  exhaust  pipes,  where  it  was  warm 
and  comfortable  ;  for  the  night  air  on  the  river  grew 
quite  chilly. 


200  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

BEN   WALKS   THE   PLANK. 

DAYLIGHT  found  the  Argenta  at  Cairo,  where  a 
few  thousand  more  grain  sacks  were  taken  on 
board  and  the  dead  man  disposed  of.  At  Cairo  the 
vessel  also  received  quite  a  consignment  of  tramps, 
bound  South.  Tramps  coming  in  off  of  the  great 
Harvest  Range,  and  tramps  from  Chicago  and  the 
cities  by  the  Lakes.  It  was  preposterous  to  suppose, 
for  a  moment,  that  the  regiment  of  them  now  on  the 
steamer  could  be  overlooked  by  the  clerk,  or  manage 
to  stow  out  of  sight  where  he  could  not  find  them. 
Still  they  came,  thinking  that  go  so  little  a  distance 
as  they  might  before  being  "  bounced,"  it  was  never- 
theless a  step  in  the  right  direction. 

Scarce  had  the  Argenta  left  Cairo,  and  before  the 
new  travellers  had  time  to  familiarize  themselves  with 
their  surroundings,  when  the  clerk  came  down  on- deck 
and  prepared  for  business.  After  running  everybody 
back  aft,  the  deck-hands  and  roustabouts  formed  a 
cordon  across  the  boat,  between  the  battery  of  boil- 
ers and  the  pile  of  grain  sacks,  others  going  to  the 
stern  and  driving  the  deck  passengers  through  a  gap 


BEN   WALKS   THE   PLANK.  201 

In  the  line  where  the  clerk  was  ready  to  receive  them. 
When  the  passengers  reached  this  gap  the  clerk  ex- 
amined their  tickets,  or  collected  the  fare  where  no 
tickets  were  produced.  When  neither  tickets  nor 
money  were  forthcoming,  the  impecunious  were  placed 
in  a  little  group  by  themselves,  under  the  surveillance 
of  some  of  the  crew.  Nothing  harsh  or  unkind  was 
said  to  them.  Indeed  their  presence  there  was  ex- 
pected and  looked  for.  Every  trip  the  boat  made 
there  were  delegations  of  them  on  board. 

At  last  the  inspection  ended.  The  passengers  who 
had  proved  themselves  all  right  were  allowed  to  go 
whithersoever  they  pleased,  and  the  "bums"  were 
marshalled  in  a  group  up  forward  around  the  capstan, 
strictly  guarded,  and  the  boat's  head  turned  for  Co- 
lumbus, on  the  Kentucky  shore.  Strange  to  relate, 
neither  of  our  friends  were  among  either  party  — 
the  paid  or  unpaid. 

Tommy,  with  sleeves  rolled  up  and  a  gunny  sack 
apron  on,  was  washing  dishes  in  the  cook's  galley,  in 
peace,  and  security,  and — soap  suds.  How  he  had 
accomplished  this  stragetic  movement  or  ingratiated 
himself  into  the  esteem  of  the  head  cook  we  do  not 
know  —  but  there  the  boy  was.  Ben,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  not  so  pleasantly  located.  His  person  was 
concealed  beneath  a  pile  of  petticoats  !  The  fact  was 
two  of  the  females  in  the  rear  were  sitting  on  our 
friend's  body.  During  the  morning,  Ben  had  struck 
up  quite  a  friendship  with  an  honest  Celt  in  patched 
corduroys  and  hickory  shirt.  In  their  conversation  it 
was  discovered  that  the  latter  had  worked  an  entire 
summer  for  Mr.  Algernon  Smythe,  at  his  Swiss  chat- 


202  A   TIGHT  •  SQUEEZE. 

elet,  away  back  on  the  sunny  banks  of  Long  Island 
Sound,  when  that  gentleman  was  first  beautifying  his 
grounds.  Ben  adroitly  mentioned  that  he  knew  Mr. 
Smythe,  having  worked  for  that  gentleman,  himself. 
A  long  overhauling  of  old  times  ensued,  and  a  bond 
of  friendship  was  established.  Our  friend  informed 
his  new  acquaintance  that  it  was  an  absolute  necessity 
for  him  to  be  in  New  Orleans  on  the  second  to  meet 
parties  with  whom  he  expected  steady  employment. 
Having  met  with  misfortunes  he  confessed  that  he  was 
beating  his  way,  for  which  his  new  found  friend  ad- 
mired him  the  more.  Now  it  so  happened  that  this 
new  acquaintance  had  established  friendly  relations 
with  two  of  his  country-women,  deck  passengers  also. 
Two  sisters  they  were,  on  their  way  south  to  meet 
their  husbands,  and  keep  camp  for  them  on  the  levee, 
while  the  men  worked  out  a  sub-contract.  These 
ladies  being  introduced  to  Ben,  and  hearing  his  story, 
and  their  sympathies  being  enlisted  —  Ben's  personal 
appearance  speaking  loudly  in  his  favor  —  they  kindly 
offered,  at  the  suggestion  of  their  gentleman  friend, 
to  sit  upon  him  during  the  clerk's  raid  on  deck.  And 
sit  upon  him  they  did  with  perfect  success  ;  not  being 
required  to  go  forward  with  the  other  passengers,  but 
sending  their  tickets  to  the  clerk  by  a  deputy.  So  it 
happened  that  when  the  Argenta  ran  her  great  round 
nose  up  to  the  bank  at  Columbus,  and  the  gang  of 
captured  "  bums  "  were  put  on  shore,  —  the  gun  boat 
visitor  among  them,  loudly  protesting  that  she  was 
"  A  high  old  gal,  you  bet ! "  our  friend  did  not  bear 
them  company. 

Whether  it  was  the  innate  modesty  peculiar  to  the 


BEN   WALKS   THE   PLANK.  203 

sex,  or  whether  it  was  that  they  thought  all  danger 
over,  we  know  not:  But  this  we  do  know,  that  Ben 
becoming  somewhat  restive  under  his  burden,  the 
younger  of  the  two  remarked  to  her  sister,  with  a 
blush  and  a  giggle,  that  she  thought  he  might  safely 
be  let  up.  The  elder  being  comfortably  seated,  and 
finding  Ben's  person  a  sort  of  spring  cushion  was  not 
disposed  to  move.  But  our  hero  giving  another  twist 
to  his  cramped  person  caused  the  youngest  one  to 
bound  up  with  a  low  cry,  followed  by  another  blush, 
and  Ben  emerged  to  thank  the  ladies  for  their  kind- 
ness. Unhappily,  for  him,  the  mud-clerk  at  that  mo- 
ment came  aft.  He  had  about  passed  Ben  when  some 
fatality  caused  him  to  turn  upon  Cleveland  and  ask 
him  to  show  his  ticket.  Ben  tried  to  enter  into  an 
explanation  ;  searched  his  pockets  industriously,  and 
at  last,  as  the  clerk  became  impatient,  appealed  to  his 
generosity  and  philanthropy,  requesting  to  be  allowed 
to  quietly  remain  and  continue  his  ride.  For  an  an- 
swer the  clerk  hailed  a  deck  hand  and  our  hero  was 
unceremoniously  marched  to  the  bow.  The  stage  had 
been  taken  on  board  and  hoisted,  and  the  Argenta 
•was  withdrawing  her  nose  from  the  bank  when  the 
mate  cried  to  the  pilot  "  Go  slow,  a  moment !  " 

"  Now,  young  man,  be  quick,  or  you'll  go  into  the 
river ! "  This  exordium  had  reference  to  a  stage- 
plank,  (a  plank  about  eighteen  inches  wide)  that,  at 
the  mate's  direction  was  stuck  out  from  the  guards 
and  weighted  on  the  boat  end  by  four  roustabouts  — 
the  other  end  being  in  the  air.  Ben  was  to  run  out 
on  this  plank  and  jump  on  shore.  He  had  need  to  be 
quick,  for  with  the  impetus  already  received  the  boat 


204  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

was  fast  drifting  out  in  the  stream  and  widening  the 
space  between  herself  and  the  land.  With  another 
sharp  order  to  "  Git!  and  git  quick  !  "  he  ran  out  on 
the  plank. 

Whether  it  happened  by  accident  or  from  an  inher- 
ent love  of  mischief,  hereditary  in  a  direct  line  from 
their  Darwinian  ancestry,  we  know  not,  but  just  then 
two  of  the  roustabouts  altered  and  fashioned  Ben's 
entire  life  by  teetering  each  other  off  of  the  plank 
just  as  our  friend  was  about  to  spring  to  the  shore 
from  the  end  of  it.  The  heels  of  the  two  other  make- 
weights went  into  the  air  while  their  heads  struck  the 
deck  with  a  resonant  thump.«  But  Ben!  He  was 
.gurgling  and  spluttering  in  the  river,  with  the  stage- 
plank  held  in  a  close  embrace. 

"  Man  overboard  !  "  was  the  cry  that  brought  all  of 
the  cabin  passengers  who  were  loitering  on  their  deck 
near  the  gangway,  to  the  front ;  among  them  Captain 
Sparbar.  The  mate  would  probably  have  allowed 
Ben  to  get  ashore  or  go  to  the  bottom,  as  best  he 
might,  but  the  plank  was  boat  property  and  worth 
saving.  That  worthy,  undoubtedly,  viewed  it  as  un- 
fortunate that  in  regaining  one  he  was  compelled  to 
save  the  other,  but  as  Ben  hung  tenaciously  to  the 
plank,  both  he  and  it  were  drawn  on  board  by  means 
of  a  rope.  And  there  he  stood  —  as  wet  as  the  river 
itself — the  very  picture  of  misery. 

"  Throw  the  hound  on  shore  !  "  cried  the  captain, 
impatient  at  the  delay.  The  captain  had  been  both 
mate  and  mud-clerk  in  his  day,  himself. 

"  All  right,  eir !  "  responded  the  mate  ;  and  then  to 
the  man  in  the  pilot-house :  "  Hold  her  nose  to  the 
bank  a  minute,  Mr.  Hawkins !  " 


BEN  WALKS   THE   PLANK.  205 

But  at  this  moment  a  soft  female  voice  was  heard 
saying : 

"  Oh,  don't,  captain.  See,  the  poor  fellow  is  nearly 
drowned.  Now  as  a  favor  to  me,  let  him  remain." 

The  captain  was  about  to  politely  protest,  when  the 
sweet  voice  silenced  him,  and  the  next  moment  he 
called  to  the  mate : 

"  Let  the  fellow  remain,  Mr.  Blassfeme  !  " 

Then  the  bells  jingled  back  by  the  engineers,  and 
the  great  boat  sprang  out  into  the  stream. 

Poor  Ben,  dripping  with  water,  turned  his  eyes 
gratefully  to  the  deck  above,  and  there  stood  the 
owner  of  the  great,  glorious,  grey  eyes,  and  by  her 
side  stood  Blackoat,  the  captain,  and  a  group  of  ad- 
mirers. One  glance  she  gave  our  hero,  and  a  smile  ; 
but  the  glance  bore  no  recognition,  and  the  smile  was 
for  his  comical  aspect.  They  were  such  notices  as 
she  might  have  bestowed  upon  a  persecuted  animal, 
rescued  from  the  hands  of  its  tormentors. 

"  Shan't  I  go  down  and  bring  your  new  friend  up 
and  give  him  an  introduction,  Bertha?  He  has  been 
washed  now,  you  know,"  said  Blackoat,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Thank  you,  Arthur,"  she  replied;  "you  may 
thank  good  fortune  that  it  was  not  yourself  that 
needed  a  good  word  with  Captain  Sparbar." 

"  Why,  Miss  Bertha  ?  "  inquired  the  captain. 

"  I  think  I  should  have  let  him  go  on  the  bank, 
sir!"  and  with  a  ringing  laugh,  in  which  all  joined 
but  Arthur,  she  disappeared  from  Ben's  vision. 

For  a  few  moments  Cleveland  stood  gazing  vacantly 
at  the  railing  of  the  upper  deck.  He  half  wished 
that  they  had  left  him  in  the  river.  Why,  he  could 


206  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

not  reason,  but  lie  felt  that  a  greater  barrier  than  ever 
was  now  insurmountably  raised  between  the  idol  of 
his  dreams  and  himself.  Back  he  went  to  the  bat- 
tery of  boilers,  and  with  many  a  joke  from  the  dusky 
fireman  dried  himself  quickly  in  the  hot  blast  from 
the  fire-doors.  This  done  he  sought  out  Tommy, 
who  having  been  engaged  in  scouring  dishes  in  the 
cook's  galley  was  unaware  of  what  had  transpired  in 
front. 

After  relating  his  late  adventures  he  said  : 

44  Tommy,  do  you  know  who  is  on  board  of  the 
boat?" 

"  There  are  a  great  many  people  on  board  of  her," 
cautiously  replied  Tommy. 

"  But  do  you  know  of  any  friends  of  ours?" 

44 No,  I  know  of  no  friends  of  ours"  replied  the 
boy  sullenly. 

44  The  man  that  struck  you  in  the  street  that  even- 
ing in  New  Jersey  City  is  here,"  said  Ben. 

44  Well  ?  "  answered  Tom,  not  at  all  surprised  at  the 
information. 

44  And  —  the  young  lady  who  was  there  with  him, 
is  here  also." 

44  Very  well.  What  of  it  ?  "  asked  the  lad,  vigor- 
ously polishing  a  plate. 

44  You  knew  it  ?  "  cried  Ben  in  astonishment. 

44  To  be  sure,"  coolly  replied  Tommy.  '4  That  is 
why  Jam  here." 

44  Tommy,"  he  continued,  after  a  pause  in  which  he 
had  earnestly  examined  the  face  of  his  companion ; 
44  Tommy,  will  you  answer  me  a  question  ?  " 

44  That  depends  on  what  the  question  is,"  cautiously 


BEN   WALKS   THE   PLANK.  207 

replied  the  other.     "  What  is  it  you  want  to  know  ?  " 

"  Are  you  following  tins  party  ?  " 

"  See  here,  Ben,  the  cook  lost  his  wood-sawyer  at 
that  last  landing.  He  was  bounced  along  with  the 
rest  of  the  bums.  You  are  in  rare  good  luck,  and 
have  secured  a  passage  clear  through  to  New  Orleans. 
All  you  want  is  to  make  yourself  solid  on  the  chuck 
question.  Go  speak  to  the  cook  right  off  before  any 
fellow  gets  ahead  of  you,  and  tell  him  you  want  to 
saw  wood  for  your  grub  this  trip.  It's  a  splendid 
chance  !  "  and  Tommy  shoved  Ben  toward  the  galley. 

"But  Tom,  answer  my  question  first;  are  you  fol- 
lowing this  party  ?  "  persisted  our  hero,  his  inquisi- 
tiveness  proof  against  the  allurements  of  the  wood 
pile. 

Tommy  was  about  to  leave  him,  but  changed  his 
mind. 

"  Ben,"  he  said,  "  if  I  answer  that  question,  will 
you  promise  never  to  ask  me  another  concerning  them 
or  me  so  long  as  we  are  together  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Never ;  no  matter  what  happens  ?  " 

"  I'll  ask  you  no  more,  Tom,  for  I  know  it  does  not 
concern  me  ;  but  tell  me  truly,  are  you  following 
them  ? " 

"  To  the  death!"  and  the  boy's  hands  clenched  and 
his  hazel  eyes  glittered  as  he  hissed  the  words.  There 
was  such  a  concentrated  hatred  and  bitterness  in  the 
utterance  that  Ben  started  back  and  eyed  him  aghast. 

"There;  now  youknow  something  that  does  not  con- 
cern you.  I  hope  you  arc  satisfied.  Furthermore  the 
meeting  in  New  Jersey  City  was  no  accident.  I  fol- 


208  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

lowed  them  and  ran  against  that —  that  man  with  my 
hat  down,  to  learn  when  and  where  they  were  going. 
Remember  your  promise,  Ben.  Don't  trifle  with  me. 
Don't  break  it.  For  I  like  you  Bennie  —  I  —  I  love 
you.  I  do  indeed,  and  I  don't  want  to  fall  out  with 
you."  Saying  which,  in  a  voice  and  manner  that  had 
softened  to  the  tenderness  of  a  girl's,  Tom  ran  into 
the  galley  and  resumed  the  polishing  of  plates. 

Puzzled  by  the  mystery  surrounding  his  little  friend, 
Ben  still  remembered  his  suggestion,  and  on  applying 
to  the  head  cook  was  duly  installed  as  Lord  of  the 
Buck-Saw  to  his  sable  Majesty. 

Verily  hath  his  lines  fallen  in  pleasant  places.  A 
rescue  from  the  river,  his  ride  to  New  Orleans  secured, 
and  here,  to  cap  the  climax  of  his  good  fortune,  here 
he  was  living  on  the  fat  of  the  Argenta's  larder,  and 
only  exercise  enough  to  give  him  an  appetite.  New 
Orleans  and  the  twenty  thousand  dollars  appeared 
already  within  his  grasp. 

Two  days  glided  by  in  peace  and  plenty.  The  du- 
ties of  his  new  office  were  neither  irksome  nor  confin- 
ing. An  hour  or  so's  industrial  manipulation  of  the 
buck  saw  provided  wood  enough  to  last  the  cook  all 
day.  In  return  for  this  service,  he  was  called  into  the 
galley  and  filled  to  repletion  after  the  other  members 
of  the  cook's  family  were  through.  He  was  the  envy 
of  all  the  "  bums  "  and  deck  passengers,  passing  as  a 
bloated  office-holder  among  them.  One  serious  and 
matter  of  fact  "  dead  broke  "  to  whom  Ben  surrepti- 
tiously carried,  biscuits  from  the  galley  earnestly  ad- 
vised him  not  to  do  too  much  at  a  time,  but  let  each 
day  provide  for  itself,  so  that  in  case  the  boat  blew  up 


BEN   WALKS   THE   PLANK.  209 

or  sunk  he  would  not  be  a  loser.  Indeed  Ben  grafted 
happy  moments  on  the  lives  of  many  poor  devils 
by  secreting  victuals  about  his  person  while  in  the 
galley  and  distributing  them  among  the  more  starved 
of  the  free-riders.  There  were  still  a  goodly  number 
on  board  and  every  raid  of  the  clerk  landed  three  or 
four.  Where  they  managed  to  stow  themselves  so  as 
to  escape  observation  was  a  mystery  to  him. 


210  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

OUR   HERO   TAKES    A   SWIM. 

MEMPHIS  was  passed  and  numerous  points  of 
historical  interest.  Points  that  had  dyed  the 
river  crimson  in  the  days  gone  by.  But  the  river 
shows  no  stain  —  let  us  sincerely  hope  the  country 
does  not.  The  Argenta  had  passed  Napoleon  early 
in  the  evening.  Napoleon  is  situated  in  Arkansas  — 
that  is  in  the  aqueous  part  of  that  commonwealth  — 
for  Napoleon  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  river.  Some 
years  ago  the  stream  made  a  highwater  dinner  off  of 
several  plantations  and  then  ate  up  Napoleon  by  way 
of  desert. 

It  was  a  lovely  starlit  night,  and  the  soft,  balmy 
air  of  the  southern  country  had  a  soothing  lullaby  in 
it,  that  entranced  our  travellers  as  they  lounged  at 
full  length  on  the  guards  of  the  port  side.  Ben  lay 
with  his  elbow  on  a  pile  of  ropes  and  his  head  resting 
on  his  hand.  Tommy  had  nestled  close  to  him  and 
was  softly  humming  a  tune,  all  to  himself.  On  the 
deck  above  was  heard  the  murmur  of  voices  and  rip- 
ples of  laughter  proceeding  from  the  cabin  passengers, 
as  they  also  sat  out  enjoying  the  evening.  Suddenly 


OUR   H^RO   TAKES   A   SWIM.  211 

a  rich  soprano  voice  broke  out  in  Foster's  lovely  mel- 
ody, "  Way  down  upon  the  S \vannee  River,"  and  the 
notes  went  floating  over  the  waters,  and  way  off  to 
the  dark  line  of  timber  that  skirted  the  horizon  of 
their  vision.  In  the  chorus  there  mingled  fine  tenor 
and  bass  voices.  Ben  lay  entranced.  He  recognized 
his  infatuation  from  the  first  note.  He  listened  for  a 
verse  or  two  and  then  unconsciously  joined  in  the  re- 
frain himself: 

"  All  the  world  is  sad  and  dreary, 
Every  where  I  roam ; 
Oh,  darkies,  how  —  " 

The  song  was  never  finished.  There  was  a  harsh, 
groaning,  crunching  noise ;  the  boat  quivered  from 
stem  to  stem  and  lurched  over  like  a  drunken  man ; 
a  crashing  of  timbers  followed;  and  Ben  found  him-. 
self  hurled  far  out  into  the  river.  Even  in  his  tran- 
sit through  the  air  he  heard  the  cries  of  alarm  and 
shouts  of  fear  that  rent  the  stillness  of  the  night. 
Then  the  great  river  embraced  him,  and  he  commenced 
battling  for  life.  Down,  down  he  sank,  and  when  he 
rose  to  the  surface,  his  head  struck  against  a  plank 
and  he  seized  upon  it,  and  found  to  his  joy  that  it 
would  just  about  support  his  full  weight.  For  an  in- 
stant the  glare  from  the  open  fires  of  the  boilers  shot 
a  broad  avenue  of  light  over  the  waters,  and  there  in 
the  center  of  the  illuminated  pathway,  there  flashed 
from  darkness  into  light  and  from  light  into  darkness 
again,  the  face  of  Tommy  as  he  clung  to  one  end  of  a 
spar  while  at  the  other  extremity  was  Blackout,  his 
countenance  ghastly  with  a  supernatural  terror  that 
something  worse  than  the  fear  of  death  had  produced. 


212  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

It  was  but  a  moment  that  they  were  in  view  and  then 
the  current  had  swept  them  into  the  gloom.  But  the 
light  had  revealed  another  form  to  Ben.  A  form  that 
had  turned  a  beseeching  face  toward  him  from  the 
cruel  waters,  and  then  sank  beneath  them.  The  next 
instant  he  felt  his  limbs  grasped  from  below,  and 
reaching  down  a  hand  to  release  himself  it  became 
tangled  in  the  meshes  of  a  woman's  hair.  With  an 
effort  he  raised  the  body,  and  there  in  the  cold  star- 
light was  the  countenance  of  Bertha  facing  him  !  A 

O  O 

thrill  of  joy  even  in  that  terrible  moment  shot  through 
his  frame.  He  tried  to  draw  her  semi-insensible  form 
upon  the  plank,  but  found  that  it  sank  beneath  their 
united  weights.  "With  an  arm  over  the  plank  he  slid 
into  the  water,  and  after  much  exertion  managed  to 
get  her  upon  the  preserver  he  had  deserted.  It  not 
only  bore  her  weight,  but  allowed  him  to  hang  upon 
it  with  his  hands,  and  partially  kept  him  up.  Ben 
was  a  good  swimmer  and  with  this  support  had  a 
chance  for  life.  But  the  Argenta,  their  only  hope  of 
rescue,  where  was  she?  Afar  off — it  appeared  to 
Ben  miles  away  —  her  cabin  lights  were  seen  on  the 
waters ;  and  another  light  moving  about  in  her  near 
vicinity  that  Ben  surmised  must  be  the  steamer's 
yawl  boat  searching  for  those  thrown  overboard. 

Would  they  find  him  ?  Could  they  hear  him  ? 
Every  moment  the  distance  between  rescue  and  him- 
self was  growing  greater  and  greater.  He  shouted 
with  all  his  strength.  Again  and  again  he  called  for 
help  !  Alas !  The  river  and  the  night  swallowed  up 
his  cries.  The  plank  with  its  precious  freight  drifted 
swiftly  away  from  succor. 


OUR   HEHO   TAKES   A   SWIM.  213 

The  causes  leading  to  Cleveland's  shipwreck  are 
briefly  told.  The  Argent  a  was  hugging  a  point  on  the 
left  bank,  and  just  as  she  had  made  it  arid  was  about 
to  shoot  for  the  opposite  bend,  a  long,  slimy  snag 
caught  in  her  larboard  guard  and  went  crashing 
through  to  her  "  Texas,"  scattering  to  right  and  left 
everything  in  its  course,  and  throwing  our  two  friends, 
and  the  party  of  cabin  passengers,  sitting  on  the  deck 
above  them,  into  the  river.  The  headway  of  the  boat 
tore  her  loose  from  the  snag  with  a  loss  of  guards  and 
decking,  but  no  serious  injury  to  the  craft's  hull,  and 
the  motion  she  was  under  carried  her  far  out  into  the 
stream  before  the  engines  could  be  reversed  and  her 
headway  checked.  When  she  at  last  controlled  her- 
self the  victims  of  the  disaster  were  being  rapidly 
swept  away,  out  of  hearing  and  reach,  by  the  point 
current.  The  steamer's  boat  picked  up  one  man 
clinging  to  the  end  of  a  spar.  His  face  was  ashy,  his 
eyes  wild,  and  his  mouth  set  agape  with  a  speechless 
terror.  When  spoken  to  he  did  not  answer,  and  they 
were  compelled  to  drag  him  forcibly  from  the  spar 
into  the  yawl.  Fright  had  evidently  overthrown  rea- 
son, and  he  remained  in  this  dumb  terrified  state  long 
after  the  steamboat  was  regained. 

It  was  Blackoat. 

He  was  the  only  one  found.  The  Argenta  steamed 
up  and  down  and  across  the  river  in  every  direction. 
But  in  vain.  The  flood  surrendered  no  more,  and  at 
last  the  captain  was  compelled  to  relinquish  his  search 
and  the  vessel's  head  turned  toward  its  destination. 

But  how  fared  our  voyagers  on  the  plank  ?  Ben 
saw  the  Argenta's  lights  grow  fainter  and  fainter  with 


214  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

a  sickening  feeling  of  despair,  and  when  at  last  they 
faded  entirely  from  view  and  he  was  left  alone  on  the 
face  of  the  cruel  flood  his  heart  sank  within  him. 
Like  many  another  shipwrecked  person  he  might 
have  lost  strength  when  he  lost  heart,  and  quietly 
surrendered  himself  to  the  remorseless  waters.  He 
might  have  done  so,  and  whispered  to  himself  as  he 
relinquished  life :  "  It's  not  worth  an  exertion,"  as 
perhaps  men  have  done  before  him.  But  there  on  the 
plank,  by  which  he  buoyed  himself,  lay  his  whole 
world.  Life  was  dearer  and  sweeter  to  him  at  that 
moment  than  ever  before.  His  eyes  tried  to  pierce 
the  gloom  that  surrounded  them  and  discover  a  shore 
that  he  might  point  the  plank  with  its  precious  bur- 
den toward.  But  the  starlight  gave  him  no  aid.  All 
was  black  and  dark.  An  impenetrable  gloom  en- 
shrouded them.  He  had  managed  to  arrange  the 
young  woman's  person  on  the  plank  so"  that  it  upheld 
her  in  safety,  and  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure  he 
took  a  scarf  that  was  pinned  about  her  shoulders  and 
bound  her  to  the  board  while  he  trod  water. 

"  Should  I  get  cramped  and  go  under,  she  may 
float  to  some  landing,"  he  thought. 

For  half  an  hour  this  strange  voyage  continued  in 
silence,  the  swift  river's  current  drifting  them  along 
at  a  rapid  speed.  Then  the  form  on  the  plank  gave 
evidence  of  returning  consciousness  and  Bertha  mur- 
mured : 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  where  am  I  ?  " 

"  There  has  been  an  accident.  You  and  I  are 
floating  on  the  river.  Be  calm.  Cling  to  the  plank. 
We  are  all  right.  We  will  drift  on  shore  or  be  picked 
up.  Be  of  good  heart." 


OTJK   HERO   TAKES   A   SWIM.  215 

"  Oh,  will  you  save  me,  will  you  save  me  ?  I  don't 
want  to  drown  —  I  can't  die  so !  Oh,  will  you  try 
and  save  me  ?  "  and  in  her  flight  she  clutched  Ben's 
shoulder. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will  save  you  —  or  die  attempting  to. 
Compose  yourself,"  replied  Ben,  earnestly.  "  There 
is  no  immediate  danger  so  long  as  you  keep  the  plank. 
Don't  hang  on  to  me  so,  please,  or  I  will  go  under." 

The  girl  withdrew  her  hand  and  laying  her  cold 
wet  cheek  against  his,  he  having  his  chin  resting  on 
the  plank,  she  murmured : 

"  You  will  save  me,  I  know  you  will.  You  are  so 
good.  Don't  let  me  drown,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Ben,  stoutly ;  "  you  shall  not 
drown.  We  will  drift  somewhere  soon  where  we  can 
be  rescued.  You  shall  be  saved,  fear  not.  Have  con- 
fidence in  me,  my  darling,  for  I  love  you !  " 

"  I  will,  I  do.  I  know  that  you  will  save  me,"  she 
earnestl}'-  replied. 

On,  oil  drifted  this  young  couple  through  the  dark- 
ness. Now  she  would  pray,  long  and  earnestly,  and 
Ben  would  say  amen.  Then  she  would  beg  him  not 
to  desert  her,  and  he  would  valiantly  protest  that  his 
life  was  at  her  service.  Between  prayer  and  suppli- 
cations they  got  tolerably  well  acquainted.  She  prom- 
ised the  love  and  gratitude  of  a  life  time,  and  he 
vowed  that  to  save  her  life  at  a  sacrifice  of  his  own 
would  be  charming. 

Though  treading  on  the  tail  of  Death's  coat,  strange 
to  say,  Ben  was  happy.  He  caressed  her,  as  well  as 
circumstances  would  permit,  and  now  and  then  kissed 
her  hand  and  even  her  cheek,  which  she  did  not 


216  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

withdraw  from  him,  but  would  arouse  herself  and  ask  : 
**  Are  we   near  the  shore  ?      Do  you  see  the  shore 

yet?" 

"  Not  yet ;  not  quite.  Be  of  good  heart,"  he  would 
reply. 

Then  a  silence  would  follow,  broken  again  by  her 
pleadings :  "  Are  we  near  the  shore  ?  Do  you  see  the 
shore  ?  " 

So  several  long  dreary  hours  wore  by. 

"  Are  we  near  the  shore  ? "  Do  you  see  the 
shore  ?  " 

And  Ben's  voice  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  and  his 
answers  slower  and  slower,  when  he  replied  to  her 
supplications  : 

"  Y-es,  yes,  dear  ;  near  the  shore.  Near  the  shore, 
I  pray  God,"  for  there  was  a  dead  faintness  and  a  loss 
of  energy  coming  over  him. 

He  was  growing  exhausted  and  several  times  his 
hold  upon  the  plank  grew  so  heavy  that  it  sank  deep 
in  the  water ;  at  which  Bertha  would  cry  out  that 
she  was  drowning  and  call  piteously  upon  him  to  save 
her.  Then  mastering  himself,  for  a  time  our  hero 
would  strive  to  float  without  hanging  to  the  board, 
but  each  attempt  grew  shorter  than  the  preceding  one, 
and  he  felt  himself  swiftly  drifting  into  Eternity. 
Once  his  hold  on  the  plank  loosened  and  he  began  to 
sink.  A  spasmodic  effort  regained  his  buoy,  but  his 
grasp  caused  it  to  sink,  and  with  a  shriek  the  maiden 
implored  him  to  save  her!  Her  voice  aroused  his 
drooping  energies,  and  gave  him  new  strength.  But 
presently  it  faded  away,  and  death  closed  in  upon  him. 

"  Are  we  near  the  shore  ?  " 


OUK   HEEO  TAKES   A   SWIM.  217 

"  I  hope  so  —  I  pray  God  so,"  said  Ben  in  a  weak 
Voice.  "  Will  you  —  will  you  kiss  me  —  just  once  ?  " 

She  would  have  kissed  him  a  thousand  times  had  it 
been  possible. 

"  Thank  you.  God  bless  you,  and  save  and  pro- 
tect you,  darling.  Cling  tight  to  the  plank.  For  I 
feel  myself  going  ;  — I  —  I  —  can't  hold  out,  —  no, 
not  much  longer.  Don't  —  let  go  —  good-bye;  —  I 
—  I  always  loved  you.  Good.  Don't  let  go.  Hang 
tight.  Good  —  .  What!  Thank  God!  Thank 
God  !  We  are  saved  !  Saved  !  Saved  !  Bertha  we 
are  saved !  My  feet  touch  the  bottom !  I  can  walk  !  " 

It  was  indeed  a  joyful  fact  and  one  that  was  much 
needed  at  that  identical  moment.  A  few  seconds 
later  and  Ben  would  have  been  too  weak  to  keep  his 
feet.  But  now  a  new  life  and  a  new  strength  was 
given  him. 

"  Wait ;  I  will  see  if  this  is  the  shore,"  he  said. 
Then  with  his  face  close  to  the  water  he  peered  around 
him. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  he  presently  said.  "  There  is  a 
dark  line  to  the  right  and  I  will  make  for  it.  Hold 
tight  to  the  plank  for  should  I  step  into  deep  water 
you  will  need  it." 

Slowly  pushing  the  plank  in  front  of  him  he  made 
his  way  toward  the  dark  line  he  had  taken  for  the 
shore.  For  several  minutes  he  cautiously  waded 
through  the  flood,  and  the  water  fell  from  his  chin  to 
his  breast  and  from  his  breast  to  his  thighs  and  then 
he  could  see  land  ahead  of  him  with  bushes  on  it.  At 
this  happy  discovery  he  set  up  a  great  cry  of  joy,  and 
unlashing  Bertha  from  the  plank,  took  her  in  his  arms 


218  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

and  floundered  through  the  shallow  water  to  the 
shore.  And  when  they  reached  it  they  both  went  on 
their  knees,  and  prayed  such  a  prayer  of  thanksgiv- 
ing, with  such  heartfelt  earnestness,  that  we  are  sorry 
to  reflect  that  it  requires  such  severe  causes  to  pro- 
duce such  commendable  effects. 

Ben  arose  from  his  knees  first  and  stood  looking 
upon  his  beautiful  companion.  When  she  had  com- 
pleted her  offering,  she  arose  also,  and  taking  both  of 
Ben's  hands  in  both  of  hers,  she  kissed  them  passion- 
ately. 

"  You  saved  my  life,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will  never, 
never  forget  it." 

The  words  were  music  in  his  ears,  but  he  modestly 
protested  that  the  services  he  had  rendered  were  his 
duty,  and  nothing  more. 

"  No  !  No !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  and  I  have 
been  too  near  death's  door  to  hold  any  reserve  be- 
tween us.  You  saved  my  life,  and  to  my  dying  day  I 
will  love  you  for  it,  and  pray  to  my  God  that  he  will  re- 
ward your  courage  and  goodness." 

Ben  actually  thought  then  and  there  that  it  was 
worth  a  dozen  wrecks,  and  a  score  of  close  calls  from 
the  Great  Reaper  to  earn  such  a  reward. 

"  I  was  fortunate  in  having  the  opportunity  to  do 
you  a  service,"  he  gallantly  replied;  "pray  do  not 
again  mention  it.  1  suppose  there  are  houses  in  the 
vicinity,  and  if  you  will  wait  here  I  will  make  a  search 
for  a  road." 

"  No,  rather  let  me  go  with  you.  It  is  so  lonely 
here  and  I  am  chilled;  "  and  the  unfortunate  young 
lady's  teeth  chattered  in  verification  of  the  last  state- 
ment. 


OUR    HERO    TAKES    A    SWIM.  219 

In  spite  of  her  protests,  Ben  took  off  his  coat,  and 
wringing  the  water  out  of  it  as  thoroughly  as  he  could, 
wrapped  it  around  his  fair  companion's  shoulders. 
Then  confidingly  nestling  her  hand  in  his  the  casta- 
ways started  on  a  voyage  of  discovery. 


220  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

THE    CASTAWAYS. 

THEIR  walk  was  not  a  long  one.  Forcing  them- 
selves through  a  thicket  of  young  cottonwoods, 
that  scarce  reached  above  Ben's  head,  a  few  rods 
brought  them  to  water  on  the  opposite  side. 

"  It  must  be  a  point,"  said  Ben  ;  "  a  neck  of  land 
jutting  out  into  the  river.  Let  us  follow  it  up." 

So  hand  in  hand,  like  two  full  grown  babes  in  the 
woods,  they  walked  down  the  sand  that  skirted  the 
cottonwood  brake.  In  less  than  half  a  mile  they 
came  to  the  end  of  the  brake,  and  a  rod  farther 
brought  them  again  to  water.  Ben  stood  speechless. 
Slowly  he  turned  to  his  companion,  whose  wistful, 
confiding  gaze  nearly  unmanned  him. 

"  Bertha,"  at  last  he  said,  huskily,  "  we  are  on  an 
island." 

Bertha  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  bowed  down 
in  grief  at  this  dire  information. 

"  Don't  cry,"  said  Ben  simply  and  soothingly,  and, 
it  must  be  confessed,  wrapping  his  arms  about  her 
drooping  form,  and  soothing  her  head  on  his  bosom 
as  gently  as  a  mother  could  have  caressed  it.  "  Don't 


THE   CASTAWAYS.  221 

cry.  The  Hand  that  brought  us  here  can  take  us  off 
again.  The  river  has  spared  us  ;  fear  not  but  we  will 
get  off  of  the  island  safely." 

And  with  many  gentle  endearments  and  soothing 
speeches  he  restored  her. 

"  You  are  shivering  with  the  cold,  Miss  Bertha," 
he  said. 

"  I  am  cold,  ver}r  cold,  dear  friend,"  she  replied ; 
"  but  so  are  you.  Think  of  yourself.  Put  on  your 
coat  again.  Morning  cannot  be  far  off,  and  then  the 
sun  will  dry  and  warm  us." 

But  Ben  refused  the  coat,  and  knew  that  morning 
was  some  hours  distant,  and  that  the  coldest  portion 
of  the  night  was  yet  to  come  upon  them,  before  the 
sun  arose  and  warmed  all  nature  back  to  life.  So  he 
drew  Bertha  into  the  centre  of  the  cotton  wood  brake, 
that  protected  them  from  the  night  breeze  now  keenly 
felt  sweeping  down  the  river.  Then  he  prepared  a 
bed  out  of  twigs  and  leaves,  and  bidding  her  lie  down 
he  spread  his  coat  over  her  and  piled  leaves  and 
boughs  high  up  around  her.  Ere  long  his  labors  were 
rewarded  by  hearing  her  draw  the  deep,  regular 
breath  of  slumber.  Then  he  laid  down  beside  her, 
and  exhausted  nature  courted  sleep,  despite  the  shiv- 
e rings  of  his  cold  wet  body. 

When  our  hero  awoke  the  sun  was  shining  down 
upon  him  from  a  cloudless  sky.  There  were  also 
shining  upon  him  two  great,  glorious,  grey  eyes,  as 
Bertha  sat  a  short  distance  away,  contemplating  him 
sadly.  He  noticed  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure  that  she 
had  carefully  covered  him  with  the  coat,  and  heaped 
the  twigs  and  boughs,  that  had  formed  her  own  bed, 


222  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

about  him.  The  young  lady  must  have  been  awake 
some  time,  for  with  the  instinct  predominant  in  her 
sex,  she  had  made  some  futile  attempts  at  a  toilet. 
Her  dishevelled  and  sand-ladened  hair  was  coiled  in  a 
mass  of  not  unpleasing  snarls,  and  over  it  she  had 
tied  her  dainty  lace  handkerchief,  having  had  no  hat 
on  her  head  at  the  time  of  the  catastrophe.  The 
drapery  of  her  rich  dress  was  sadly  creased  and 
wrinkled,  and  she  wore  all  the  appearance  of  a  young 
lady  that  had  taken  an  involuntary  bath,  and  then 
been  only  partially  wrung  out.  A  memory  of  the 
array  of  good  taste,  wealth  and  fashion  that  passed 
him  on  Olive  Street,  in  St.  Louis,  flitted  through 
Ben's  mind,  and  in  spite  of  himself  he  smiled  at  the 
contrast.  She  evidently  understood  what  was  upper- 
most in  his  mind,  for  returning  smile  for  smile,  she 
said: 

"  My  experience  on  the  river  has  not  been  condu- 
cive to  good  appearances.  You  must  be  gentle  in 
your  criticisms." 

But  Ben  vowed  she  never  had  looked  so  lovely  in 
all  her  life.  Which,  indeed,  she  had  not ;  for  there 
was  a  touching  grace  in  the  way  she  bore  her  distress 
that  enhanced  the  charms  of  a  naturally  beautiful 
woman. 

"Your  clothes  are  not  dry,"  said  Ben. 

"Not  quite,"  she  replied,  "but  I  think  they  soon 
will  be."  A  look  of  misery  crossed  her  face  as  she 
said  so,  however,  plainly  indicating  that  the  wet  sand- 
ladened  garments  she  had  slept  in,  and  which  were 
now  clinging  to  her  person  were  any  thing  but  congen- 
ial to  physical  comfort. 


THE   CASTAWAYS.  223 

"  Remain  here  for  a  few  moments  while  I  take  a 
look  at  our  island  and  discover  .some  means  of  escape 
from  it,  if  possible,"  said  Ben. 

It  did  not  take  him  long  to  become  familiar  with 
the  topography  of  his  new  location.  It  was  simply  a 
sand  bar  half  a  mile  long,  and  from  four  to  five  rods 
broad,  standing  in  the  middle  of  an  old  channel.  The 
centre  of  the  bar  was  but  two  or  three  feet  above  the 
river's  surface,  but  was  already  covered  with  that 
dense  and  rapid  cottonwood  growth  peculiar  to  the 
river  country  of  the  south.  Off  to  the  west,  half  a 
mile  away,  was  another,  but  a  much  longer  island, 
also  covered  with  small  trees.  On  the  east  a  deep, 
swift  channel  separated  the  castaways  from  a  wide 
expanse  of  the  everlasting  cottonwood  brakes  that 
stretched  a  mile  inland  and  appeared  joined  in  the 
back  ground  to  a  heavy  forest.  To  the  north  and 
south  two  points  of  land,  heavily  timbered,  ran  far 
out  into  the-  river  and  closed  up  the  horizon. 

Ignorant  as  Ben  was  of  the  shifting  nature  of  the 
Mississippi,  he  could  easily  surmise  that  in  no  distant 
past  the  river  had  swept  around  the  point  above  him 
and  formed  the  bay  in  which  his  island,  and  the  other 
stretches  of  sand  flats,  lay. 

It  was  not  then  a  bay,  but  a  bend.  Then  there  had 
come  a  change.  Perhaps  it  was  a  "  wash-out "  miles 
up  the  river,  or  a  caving  of  bank  nearer  at  hand.  Or 
perchance  a  farmer  in  scouring  his  plow  ran  it  through 
some  narrow  neck  of  sand,  miles  away,  and  the  river 
had  made  its  bed  in  the  furrow,  leaving  whole  town- 
ships inland,  and  putting  other  whole  townships  to 
soak.  Whatever  the  cause  of  it,  the  current  had  evi- 


H24  A   TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 

dently  at  a  comparatively  recent  date  been  shot 
straight  out  from  the  point,  instead  of  circling  around 
it.  The  deep  bay  had  filled  with  sand  and  cotton- 
wood  timber  sprouted  upon  it.  Left  to  itself  a  cen- 
tury and  the  cotton  woods  on  the  sandbar  would  have 
grown  to  great  trees,  and  been  thrown  to  earth  by  the 
stronger  arms  and  more  powerful  growth  of  oak,  ash, 
and  sycamore.  Another  century  and  the  oak,  ash, 
and  sycamore  would  have  bowed  to  the  woodman's 
axe.  The  plow  would  have  turned  up  their  foothold. 
Broad  acres,  rich  with  cotton  and  corn,  would  have 
flourished  on  the  captured  domain.  A  "  corner  "  gro- 
cery would  have  started.  Then  another,  and  another, 
and  another.  First  a  hamlet,  then  a  borough,  then  a 
city.  Then  the  iron  horse  would  make  his  way  in  the 
young  metropolis,  and  it  would  grow  with  a  wondrous' 
growth.  Mayors,  and  churches,  and  rings,  and  sub- 
sidies, and  aldermen,  and  defaulters,  and  debts,  and 
boards-of-trade,  and  societies,  and  "bosses,"  and  — 
all  the  paraphernalia  that  goes  to  make  up  a  great 
city,  would  be  grown  on  that  sandbar  where  Ben 
stood. 

But  these  things  were  not  to  be.  There  had  been 
another  "  wash-out,"  another  cave-in,  or  another  plow 
furrow,  somewhere  else,  and  the  river  was  slowly 
coming  back  to  its  first  love,  and  if  no  "  wash-outs  " 
or  furrows  intervened  the  island  Ben  stood  upon  would 
in  a  few  years  again  be  the  river's  channel. 

Although  all  of  this  was  not  surmised  by  him  he, 
saw  enough  to  fill  his  mind  with  dark  forebodings. 
He  knew  no  boats  would  come  that  way,  for  even  as 
he  looked  a  steamer's  smoke  curled  over  the  point  of 


THE   CASTAWAYS.  225 

woodland,  miles  to  the  north  of  him,  and  disappeared 
without  ever  once  allowing  him  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  vessel  it  issued  from.  The  land  side  was  evidently 
as  uninhabited  as  the  long  island  on  the  west,  and 
both  separated  him  in  their  lonely  barrenness  from 
succor.  Had  they  then  been  rescued  from  the  river 
only  to  die  a  lingering  death  of  starvation  and  expos- 
ures !  Not  a  match  to  light  a  fire  with.  Not  a 
stranded  log  to  float  from  their  island  prison  upon. 
Their  rescuing  plank  drifted  off.  Not  strength  enough 
to  breast  three  yards  of  the  swift  current  that  swept 
by  them.  Nothing  but  to  face  fate,  and  —  die  !  The 
position  was  horrible.  Had  he  been  by  himself  he 
thought  he  could  have  borne  its  terrors  composedly. 
Nay,  he  was  no  coward,  and  when  the  worst  came  to 
the  worst  and  he  was  no  longer  able  to  bear  the  pangs 
of  hunger  and  the  miseries  of  loneliness,  he  could 
have  consigned  his  body  to  the  river  without  a  shud- 
der. But  to  see  her,  the  idol  of  his  existence,  the 
woman  he  adored,  perish  inch  by  inch,  moment  by 
moment,  and  not  be  able  to  extend  a  single  aid  —  that 
made  his  heart  tremble.  Slowly  and  with  down  cast 
eyes  he  made  his  way  back  to  where  Bertha  sat. 

"  "Well,"  she  said,  greeting  him  with  a  smile,  "  is 
this  Crusoe  land  ?  " 

For  a  moment  he  thought  of  hiding  the  real  facts 
of  the  case,  but  on  reflecting  that  she  must  shortly 
discover  them  herself,  he  made  known  their  deplor- 
able position  to  her.  Before  the  recital  was  over  she 
was  weeping  bitterly. 

"  Don't,  don't,  please  don't,  Miss  Bertha,"  said  Ben, 
piteously.  "  You  quite  unman  me.  It  may  not  be 


226  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

so  bad  after  all.  Some  boat  might  come  tins  way,  or 
we  may  be  able  to  make  our  presence  known  to  those 
who  can  rescue  us.  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope. 
The  Hand  that  drew  us  hither,  will  not  leave  us  here 
to  perish,  be  assured." 

Bertha  arose  and  placing  both  hands  on  his  breast 
looked  him  mournfully  in  the  face,  as  she  controlled 
her  feelings,  and  said : 

"  I  have  confidence  in  Him,  my  good  friend,  and  if 
I  give  way  to  weakness  you  must  remember  the 
dreadful  trials  we  have  passed  through  ;  nay,  that  we 
are  now  passing  through,  and  that  have  made  me 
physically  weak,  and  oh !  —  "  and  the  lips  quivered 
and  the  grey  eyes  again  filled  with  tears ;  "I  —  I  feel 
so  wretched  !  " 

Now  by  all  authorities — that  is,  written  authori- 
ties, —  Benjamin  Cleveland  should  have  drawn  him- 
self apart  from  the  innocent  being  fate  had  cast  him 
alone  upon  this  island  sand  bar  with,  and  been  too  high- 
minded  to  take  advantage  of  circumstances.  He 
should  have  occupied  a  high  moral  plane,  in  which 
even  a  platonic  passion  would  have  found  no  existence, 
and  consoled  her  with  dull  platitudes  and  stilted 
phraseology.  They  all  do  it  that  way  —  in  the  nov- 
els. Alas,  Ben  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  acted 
on  impulse.  He  wound  his  arms  about  the  fair  form 
and  pressed  it  close  to  his  breast,  and  as  she  pillowed 
her  head  on  his  shoulder  he  kissed  her  hair,  her  fore- 
head, her  cheeks  times  innumerable.  And  she  liked 
it ;  she  felt  better ! ! 

He  said  not  a  word,  for  he  had  nothing  to  say,  but 
he  petted  her  like  a  mother  would  her  child,  until  her 


THE   CASTAWAYS.  227 

drooping  spirits  revived  and  she  smiled  at  his  endeav- 
ors in  her  behalf.  From  his  own  condition  he  readily 
appreciated  the  feelings  of  his  companion.  There 
was  a  growling,  discontented  vacuum  loud  in  its  de- 
mands to  be  filled  ;  that  sick,  weak  feeling  of  hunger 
that  succeeds  exertion  and  exposure.  They  were  both 
hungry  —  very  hungry  ;  for  hunger  makes  louder  de- 
mands at  .the  commencement  of  privations  than  it  does 
after  time  has  allowed  the  muscles  of  the  system  to 
contract  and  close  with  a  tight  grip  upon  starvation's 
emptiness.  Added  to  their  unappeased  appetites,  was 
the  miserable,  creeping,  disgusting  feeling  occasioned 
by  wet  clothes  filled  with  irritating  sand.  These  are 
humble  details,  we  will  admit ;  but  they  were  the  gi- 
gantic realities  of  the  moment  to  the  castaways.  Ben. 
realized  the  facts  and  actively  engaged  his  mind  in 
search  of  a  remedy. 

u  Miss  Bertha,"  he  said,  "  let  us  at  least  make  our- 
selves as  comfortable  as  circumstances  will  permit. 
These  wet  and  stiffening  clothes,  filled  with  river  sand, 
are  unbearable.  Listen  to  me.  I  will  go  to  the  other 
end  of  the  island  and  wash  the  sand  out  of  mine,  and 
do  you  remain  here  on  the  sunny  end  and  do  the  same. 
Hang  them  on  the  cottonwood  bushes  until  they  are 
thoroughly  dry,  and  keep  yourself  in  the  warm  sun- 
shine. Exercise  too  —  run,  jump,  or  do  what  you 
please  so  as  to  keep  the  blood  in  circulation  ;  it  is  pos- 
itively necessary  for  us  to  do  all  in  our  power  to  court 
health  and  comfort,  or  we  will  sink  down  under  ex- 
posure. I  will  not  be  back  for  two  hours." 

In  her  loneliness  she  was  loth  to  part  with  him  at 
all,  but  he  said  reassuringly  : 


228  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  I  will  be  within  hail,  and  as  there  is  not  a  living 
thing  on  the  island,  you  need  not  fear  intrusion,"  and 
then  kissing  her  tenderly,  (for  he  had  got  into  that 
pleasant  fashion  and  his  caresses  had  never  yet  so 
much  as  brought  the  faintest  blush  to  her  cheek  — or 
his)  Ben  walked  to  the  upper  end  of  the  sandbar,  be- 
hind the  cottonwoods,  and  there  disrobed. 

While  seated  on  the  sand,  his  wardrobe  adorning 
the  neighboring  bushes,  he  reflected  on  the  gravity  of 
their  position.  » 


CRUSOE  LIFE.  229 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

CRUSOE  LIFE. 

AS  has  been  stated,  the  smoke  of  a  steamboat  had 
been  seen  at  the  point  above,  without  the  boat 
coming  in  view,  and  during  the  forenoon  another  went 
by  opposite.  He  could  hear  the  beat  of  her  paddles, 
and  see  the  long,  thin  line  of  smoke  hanging  in  the 
heavens  over  beyond  the  low  island  in  the  west.  But 
the  vessel  never  came  in  sight.  Evidently  the  main 
current  set  across  from  the  point  to  a  bend,  probably 
miles  away,  in  the  opposite  shore,  and  boats  going 
down  stream  took  the  current,  while  those  coming  up 
hugged  the  bend  to  avoid  it.  Quite  likely  the  near- 
est the  passing  crafts  came  to  the  castaways  was  the 
point  above,  at  least  three  miles  to  the  north.  It  was 
plainly  evident  that  they  could  not  make  their  pres- 
ence known  to  these. 

Once  while  seated  on  the  sands  he  thought  he 
heard  the  faint  echo  of  hounds,  baying  in  the  dark 
grey  timbers  that  stood  bold  against  the  sky  in  the 
east.  But  what  of  that?  There  was  a  long  cotton- 
wood  sand  flat  between  his  island's  channel  and  the 
timbers,  and  who  could  tell  the  number  of  other  chan- 


230  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

nels  and  deep  lagoons  that  intervened  before  the  tim- 
bers were  reached  ?  The  more  he  reflected  upon  the 
matter  the  more  was  he  convinced  that  an  escape  from 
the  sandbar  depended  entirely  upon  their  own  exer- 
tions, and  sincerely  regretted  that  he  had  allowed  the 
plank  to  drift  away  the  previous  night. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  That  was  the  momentous 
question ;  for  whatever  was  to  be  done,  would  have 
to  be  done  quickly,  while  strength  lasted.  All  Ben's 
latent  ingenuity  was  taxed  for  relief  —  stimulated  by 
the  cravings  of  his  empty  stomach.  At  last  he  struck 
upon  the  following  plan,  —  the  only  one  appearing 
feasible  or  practicable.  The  cottonwood  brake  that 
covered  the  bar,  was  of  two  or  three  years'  growth, 
with  the  shoots  as  thick  as  a  man's  wrist  at  the  butts, 
and  standing  seven  or  eight  feet  high.  Rather  slen- 
der poles  to  use,  but  with  his  pocket-knife  and  the 
help  of  Bertha  he  hoped  to  get  enough  of  them  to- 
gether to  make  a  raft  that  would  bear  their  united 
weights.  He  knew  it  would  take  a  large  number,  but 
it  was  their  only  hope,  and  they  could  continue  piling 
tier  upon  tier,  until  they  made  a  serviceable  float. 
When  their  raft  could  bear  them,  he  would  await  a 
favorable  breeze  from  the  west,  and  with  a  skirt  of 
his  coat  for  a  sail,  take  to  the  current  and  try  to  make 
the  wooded  point  four  or  five  miles  below.  Should 
they  miss  a  landing,  there  was  the  open  river  to  be 
gained,  and  a  chance  of  being  picked  up  by  some  boat, 
while  where  they  were  none  but  Death  would  come  to 
the  rescue. 

The  sun  had  mounted  to  meridian  and  was  on  its 
way  to  the  western  horizon  before  Ben's  clothes  were 


»  CKTJSOE   LIFE.  231 

dry.  In  the  interim  he  employed  himself  in  building 
a  hut  out  of  the  cotton  woods.  •  With  his  hands  he 
scraped  a  hole  a  foot  deep  and  four  feet  square  in  the 
sandy  soil  of  the  brake.  Around  this  he  propped  up 
a  thick  wall  of  the  young  trees  and  covered  it  with  a 
roof  of  the  same.  After  placing  a  heavy  carpet  of 
twigs  and  leaves  on  the  floor,  the  hut  was  compara- 
tively comfortable.  It  would  give  them  a  shelter  dur- 
ing the  day  and  protect  them  from  the  river  breeze  at 
night.  He  now  dressed  himself,  and  noticed  for  the 
first  time  an  alteration  in  his  person,  a  sooner  discov- 
ery of  which  would  have  afforded  him  much  comfort. 
His  skin  had  grown  red  as  a  boiled  lobster  and  was 
painfully  sensitive  the  moment  his  clothes  touched  it. 
While  the  sun  had  been  drying  his  clothes  it  had  been 
baking  him.  Despite  the  pain  he  remembered  with  a 
pang  of  remorseful  apprehension  the  advice  he  had 
given  Bertha,  and  was  filled  with  alarm  lest  she  had 
literally  obeyed  him,  and  was  now  in  a  similar  predic- 
ament —  only  worse. 

When  they  met  he  cautiously  advanced  the  matter 
by  delicately  intimating  his  own  broiled  condition, 
and  apologetically  inquiring  as  to  her  state.  But 
Bertha  only  laughed  and  said,  "  What  an  idea  !  "  from 
which  he  inferred  that  his  unfortunate  advice  had  not 
been  religiously  observed. 

Then  the  young  couple  walked  to  their  new  house. 

"  We  will  go  to  housekeeping  here,"  said  Ben, 
pleasantly  ;  and  Bertha  blushed,  that  time. 

Both  evidently  felt  much  improved  in  their  dry 
clothes,  and  though  ravenously  hungry,  the  first  pangs 
of  emptiness  had  modified  themselves. 


232  A    TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 

"  We  will  have  to  issue  cards,"  continued  our  hero 
merrily.  "  At  home,  September  26th,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 

Benjamin  Cleveland,  nee  Bertha ,"  and  there  he 

suddenly  stopped. 

"  My  name  is  Ford,"  said  Bertha  quietly,  though 
not  unpleased  at  her  companion's  facetiousness. 
"  Bertha  Ford,  and  I  infer  from  what  I  have  just 
heard  that  I  may  address  you  as  Mr.  Benjamin  Cleve- 
land ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  you  may  not,"  exclaimed  Ben,  warmly. 
"  You  must  call  me  '  Ben.'  I  have  earned  that  privi- 
lege, have  I  not  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  indeed  I'll  call  you  any  thing  you  wish  — 
dear  Ben  if  you  want  me  to  ;  for  did  you  not  save  my 
life  !  "  and  with  two  soft,  white  little  hands  in  his,  she 
looked  so  winsomely  grateful  into  his  face  that  Ben 
blushed  in  ecstasy,  —  stammered  —  and  said  —  he 
knew  not  what. 

At  all  events  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  call 
each  other  by  their  Christian  names,  and  this  danger- 
ous precedent  established,  there  is  no  telling  how  far 
circumstances  and  surroundings  might  have  carried 
their  intimacy,  was  it  not  that  on  the  one  side  there 
was  the  bright  honor  of  a  first  and  picturesque  love, 
that  would  no  more  have  allowed  an  evil  thought  to 
sully  it,  than  it  would  have  permitted  an  injury  to  be 
done  to  the  object  of  its  adoration  ;  and  on  the  maid- 
en's part  were  innocence  and  purity  —  needing  no 
bulwarks  and  for  which  twin  virtues  the  convention- 
alities of  society  were  never  builded. 

Having  examined  the  hut  Ben  told  her  of  his  plan 
to  escape,  and  she  flushed  with  hope  and  was  anxious 


CRUSOE    LIFE.  233 

to  commence  the  work  immediately.  So  at  it  the  two 
went.  He  cut  down  the  young  trees  and  she  carried 
them  in  armfuls  down  to  the  water's  edge,  where  it 
was  proposed  to  build  the  raft.  When  night  over- 
took their  labors,  quite  a  pile  of  the  cotton  woods  had 
been  accumulated  on  the  strand  to  reward  their  indus- 
try. Ben's  hands  were  blistered  and  Bertha's  arms 
were  tired  and  sore,  but  both  felt  the  elasticity  of 
hope.  During  the  early  part  of  the  afternoon's  labors 
much  laughter  was  occasioned  at  the  young  lady's  ap- 
pearance. To  see  a  very  pretty  young  woman  with 
white  jewelled  hands  and  diamond -draped  ears  pack- 
ing brushwood  through  the  sand,  the  long  heavy  trail 
of  a  rich  dress  sweeping  behind  her,  was  ludicrous. 
After  sweeping  a  few  furrows,  Bertha  came  after  her 
load  without  the  trail,  and  things  progressed  better. 
They  said  but  little,  and  what  was  said  was  only  to 
encourage  each  other  at  their  labors. 

As  it  grew  chilly  with  the  evening  breeze  sweeping 
down  the  river  they  retired  to  the  protection  of  the 
hut,  and  there  (though  it  was  no  doubt  highly  inde- 
corous) seated  on  the  carpet  of  boughs  the  head  of 
Bertha  found  Ben's  shoulder  and  his  own  stout  arms 
wound  about  her  form.  Ben  afterward  stated  that 
had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  of  his  being  everlastingly 
hungry,  he  would  consider  it  the  happiest  moment  of 
all  his  life. 

"  Ben  !  "  suddenly  said  the  young  lady. 

"  What  is  it,  Bertha  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Do  you  know  it  seems  to  me  as  though  I  had  known 
you  for  ages,  instead  of  for  only  a  single  day.  Is  it 
*iot  strange  ?  " 


234  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Now  Ben  did  not  think  this  so  very  strange.  He 
had  no  cogitation  with  himself  about  the  fellowship 
of  misery,  but  he  did  know  that  during  the  entire  af- 
ternoon when  she  came  up  from  the  strand  after  her 
load  of  trees  and  he  had  freighted  her  with  them, 
they  had  looked  into  one  another's  eyes  in  a  confiden- 
tial manner  that  had  deeply  impressed  him.  And 
sometimes  when  his  cuttings  had  not  accumulated  fast 
enough  to  furnish  a  load,  she  had  stood  by  his  side 
and  in  a  soft,  caressing  way  had  patted  his  back  and 
shoulders  encouragingly,  and  when  he  looked  up  there 
was  a  smile  on  her  lips  and  a  great  wide  eyed  look  of 
confidence  and  gratitude  beaming  down  upon  him. 
When  their  eyes  met  they  spoke  —  not  in  a  language 
of  vowel  sounds  and  consonants,  (which  same  vowels 
and  consonants  when  they  have  an  opportunity  of 
materializing  rush  and  tumble  over  one  another,  and 
cram  themselves  in  where  there  is  no  earthly  use  for 
them)  they  spoke  not  by  breath  shaped  into  philolog- 
ical mysteries,  but  in  the  old,  old  tongue,  that  has 
been  spoken  since  Adam  first  held  converse  with  Eve, 
and  several  years  before  that  event,  perhaps. 

"  Does  it  seem  strange  to  you,  Bertha  ?  It  don't 
to  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  known  you  always  —  and 
that  I  will  know  you  forever  !  " 

Bertha  was  silent. 

"Do  you  hear  me,  Bertha — forever!" 

"  Bertha,  1  love  you!  I  love  you,  dearly  and  truly. 
I  love  you  — !  " 

Before  he  could  finish  Bertha  had  withdrawn  from 
his  arms,  and  now  sat  a  little  apart,  trying  to  look 
kindly  into  his  face  through  the  darkness,  and  holding 
both  of  his  hands  in  hers. 


CKUSOE    LIFE.  235 

"  Ben,  dear  Ben,  don't  love  me  that  way,"  she  simply 
said.  "  Love  me  as  a  sister.  Love  me  as  a  very,  very 
dear  friend,  but  do  not  think  of  a  nearer  or  closer  re- 
lationship, Ben.  I  know  I  owe  my  life  to  you,  and  I 
would  gladly  do  any  thing  for  you  that  lay  in  my 
power  ;  love  you,  —  I  do,  I  do  !  So  dearly  that  I  would 
die  for  you.  But  Ben  — I  can  not  marry  you.  I  am 
to  be  the  wife  of  another.  It  is  settled!  " 

There  was  a  sorrowful  cadence  in  the  last  three 
words  that  made  Ben  forget  his  own  misery  in  com- 
passion for  his  gentle  companion. 

"  Settled,  Bertha !  Do  you  love  him  ?  "  he  asked, 
not  just  at  that  moment  reflecting  that  it  was  none  of 
his  business,  and  that  the  question  was  an  imperti- 
nance  and  an  insult. 

But  instead  of  answering  his  question,  she  said 
with  tears  in  her  voice  : 

"  Listen,  my  kind,  dear  friend,  while  I  tell  you  the 
little  there  is  to  my  life.  I  was  born  eighteen  years 
ago.  When  but  little  more  than  four  years  old  my 
father  died,  leaving  my  mother  in  straitened  cir- 
cumstances with  two  children  ;  myself  and  a  little 
baby  sister.  Ben — "  and  she  softly  placed  a  hand 
on  his  arm,  "  that  little  sister  has  never  risen  from  her 
bed.  She  is  now  fourteen  years  old,  and  all  those 
fourteen  years  have  been  spent  in  patient  suffering. 

"  When  I  had  grown  to  be  quite  a  girl,  a  bachelor 
uncle,  my  mother's  brother,  adopted  me,  and  all  the 
advantages  that  wealth  could  offer  I  had.  Two  years 
ago  this  uncle  died  leaving  a  singular  will.  His  prop- 
erty, amounting  to  some  three  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars, must  remain  undivided,  and  yet  he  wished  it 


236  A    TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

shared  between  a  nephew  and  myself.  To  accomplish 
this  the  will  directs  that  I  am  to  marry  my  cousin 
within  two  months  after  attaining  the  age  of  eighteen. 
In  case  either  refuses  to  enter  into  the  alliance,  the 
entire  estate  is  to  go  to  the  one  agreeing  to  it  —  the 
other  to  be  left  unnoticed.  Or  in  case  of  either  mar- 
rying other  persons  than  those  specified  in  the  will 
the  property  goes  to  the  one  remaining  single.  Should 
both  marry,  the  property  is  to  be  divided  up  among  a 
number  of  charities.  Both  my  cousin  and  myself 
have  emplo}red  able  legal  talent,  but  they  all  agree 
that  the  will  is  drawn  up  in  a  manner  that,  absolutely 
prevents  any  other  disposition  of  the  property,  than 
those  specified.  My  dear  friend,  I  have  a  darling 
mother  who  has  seen  many  hardships  and  trials  ;  one 
who  has  loved  and  watched  over  me,  and  sacrificed 
and  suffered  for  me  as  only  a  mother  can.  I  have  a 
poor,  helpless,  little  sister  —  bed-ridden  for  life.  The 
income  I  now  receive  from  my  share  of  my  uncle's 
property  provides  them  with  a  comfortable  home,  and 
furnishes  those  necessities,  both  little  and  great,  with- 
out which  life,  under  the  best  of  circumstances,  is 
hard.  How  much  more  then  would  it  be  for  a  poor 
helpless  little  invalid  ?  Tell  me  Ben  —  tell  me  my 
good  friend  —  have  I  a  right  to  refuse  my  cousin's 
proffered  hand  ?  Have  I  a  right  to  take  from  those 
two  dear  ones  the  only  support  they  have  ?  Is  my 
life  or  person  my  own  ?  Tell  me,  you  who  are  so  no- 
ble and  brave  ;  you  who  would  have  given  up  your 
life  for  me  —  tell  me,  am  I  right?  For,  Ben,  I  feel 
that  I  owe  my  life  to  you,  and  would  now  be  a  corpse 
at  the  bottom  of  the  cruel  waters  if  you  had  not 


CRUSOE   LIFE.  237 

freely  risked  your  own  existence  for  mine.  I  feel  this, 
and  feeling  it  I  give  myself  to  you  ;  it  is  the  least  re- 
turn I  can  make.  You  have  heard  my  story ;  you 
know  my  position  ;  would  you  have  me  break  my  en- 
gagement ?  " 

Poor  Ben !  Alas,  poor  Ben  !  Stone  by  stone  the 
temple  had  gone  up.  Column,  and  coigne,  and  archi- 
trave ;  tower,  and  entablature,  and  dome.  And  here 
lay  the  fairy  castle  —  all  tumbled  at  his  feet!  Built 
of  air,  and  into  air  it  bad  vanished.  Bad,  black,  sel- 
fish thoughts  strolled  over  the  ruins.  Every  one  for 
himself.  What  should  he  care  for  a  mother  he  had 
never  seen,  and  a  sick  sister  he  did  not  know  ?  What 
were  their  ease  and  comfort  to  him.  The  girl  by  his 
side  had  confessed  that  she  loved  him.  True  the  con- 
fession may  have  emanated  from  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  gratitude  that  subverted  all  other  responsi- 
bilities. But  what  of  that  ?  Evidently  from  the 
plenitude  of  her  heart  and  innocence  she  felt  as  she 
had  spoken  —  that  he  had  saved  her  life,  and  that  it 
was  his.  Why  should  he  not  claim  it  ? 

Poor  Ben.  It  was  so  hard  to  see  his  castles  tumbled 
down.  So  hard  to  find  his  daydreams  so  near  a  reali- 
zation and  then  to  give  her  up.  He  could  not,  he 
would  not.  Not  until  that  moment  did  he  know  how 
completely  this  love  had  taken  possession  of  him. 
Day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  minute  by  minute,  during 
all  the  long  miles  of  his  tramp  it  had  been  subtly  per- 
meating every  sense  of  his  body.  And  must  he  now 
pluck  it  out?  He  hid  his  face  in  his  hands.  Then  a 
soft  little  hand  stole  over  his  head  and  a  warm  arm 
about  his  neck,  while  in  low  accents  she  said : 


238  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"Tell  me  Ben,  am  I  right  ?  " 

There  was  good  stuff  in  those  hard-headed  and  stub- 
born-minded people  who  first  set  Christian  foot  upon 
Plymouth  Rock.  There  was  good  stuff  in  this  their 
descendant. 

He  raised  his  head  and  taking  both  of  her  hands  in 
his,  said  slowly  —  even  solemnly  : 

"  Yes,  darling,  you  are  right !  But,  oh,  you  do  not 
know  how  hard  it  is  to  give  you  up  for  I  love  you  so 
much  !  But  you  are  right,  God  bless  you,  you  are 
right !  The  service  I  rendered  was  one  my  manhood 
owed  to  humanity  —  no  more.  It  would  ill  become 
that  manhood  that  it  claim  as  a  reward  that  you  de- 
sert the  paths  of  duty  to  those  loved  ones.  Kiss  me, 
Bertha ;  you  may  do  that.  There  now,  sister,  lie 
down  and  sleep,  for  I  know  you  need  rest,"  and  he 
covered  her  with  his  coat  and  piled  the  leaves  and 
brush  about  her  form. 

Then  hour  after  hour  Ben  sat  and  held  bitter  com- 
munion with  himself. 


DEATH  SHAKES  HANDS  WITH  THE  CASTAWAYS.     239 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

DEATH   SHAKES   HANDS   WITH  THE   CASTAWAYS. 

THE  castaways  arose  on  the  following  morning 
weaker,  but  refreshed.  Their  hunger  was  not  so 
pressing  as  upon  the  previous  day,  but  their  steps 
were  slower,  and  their  vitality  had  decreased.  No 
reference  was  made  by  either  to  the  conversation  of 
the  previous  evening.  Ben's  face  wore  a  look  of 
great  sorrow  he  could  not  conceal,  and  Bertha  by  nu- 
merous little  attentions  and  pretty  little  ways,  that 
are  the  sole  property  of  her  sex,  tried  to  assuage  his 
woes.  Alas,  the  dear  girl  did  not  know  that  the  balm 
she  appKed  to  our  friend's  wounds  made  them  grow 
the  deeper  and  break  out  afresh. 

Cleveland  exerted  himself  among  the  cottonwoods 
and  Bertha  carried  them  to  the  river.  During  the 
morning  he  told  her  of  his  own  life,  and  the  nature 
of  the  tramp  that  had  led  him  to  his  present  unfortu- 
nate position.  It  was  then  for  the  first  time  she  knew 
that  Ben  was  the  boy's  champion  in  Jersey  City,  and 
also  the  stowaway  whose  passage  her  intercessions  had 
secured  at  Columbus.  So  little  had  he  occupied  her 
attention  on  those  occasions  that  had  he  not  informed 


240  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

her  she  would  have  remained  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  Blackoat's  antagonist,  or  the  subject  of 
Mr.  Blassfeme's  aquatic  attentions. 

"  So  then  our  wreck  was  not  your  first  acquaintance 
with  the  river,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  that  was  my  second  bath." 

Later  in  the  day  Ben,  after  both  had  been  for  some 
time  engaged  in  silence  at  work  on  the  raft,  asked 
suddenly : 

"  Bertha,  what  is  your  cousin's  name  ?  " 

"Arthur  Blackoat,"  she  replied. 

"  Arthur  Blackoat !  "  exclaimed  he  in  a  voice  of  ap- 
prehension. "  Why  —  "  and  then  he  stopped. 

She  waited  for  him  to  continue,  but  he  said  no 
more,  and  both  resumed  their  work  in  silence. 

By  tearing  up  one  of  the  young  lady's  skirts  into 
strips  and  twisting  these,  they  made  cables  with  which 
Ben  bound  the  layers  of  cottonwood  firmly  together 
at  the  corners,  and  in  the  centre.  The  raft  being 
made  in  the  style  of  a  "  mattrass  "  such  as  the  cele- 
brated jettie  cribs  rest  upon  at  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
and  which  are  to  take  Nature  by  the  ears  and  show 
the  old  Dame  how  she  should  walk  the  straight  and 
narrow  path.  Before  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  it 
would  uphold  Ben,  and  by  sundown  both  could  safely 
float  upon  it. 

"  We  will  not  start  in  the  dark,"  said  he,  "  for  we 
need  daylight  for  the  attempt,  and  a  breeze  that  will 
give  us  a  chance  to  reach  the  point  below.  Early  in 
the  morning  we  will  give  up  Crusoe  life,  and  surren- 
der our  domain  back  to  solitude." 

Both  retired  to  the  hut  in  high  hopes  of  the  mor- 


DEATH  SHAKES  HANDS  WITH  THE  CASTAWAYS.    2-il 

row's  relief,  and  ere  thoy  slept  an  earnest  prayer  of 
thanks  for  their  safety  and  supplications  for  the  suc- 
cess of  their  efforts  was  sent  to  Him  who  holds  the 
whole  world  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 

Then  they  slept — soundly,  if  not  sweetly  —  for 
both  were  exhausted. 

Slept  —  while  the  great  river  went  rolling  by  on  its 
way  to  the  sea. 

Slept  —  while  from  the  north,  from  the  east,  from 
the  west,  from  thousands  of  meadow  brooks  and 
mountain  torrents,  from  hundreds  of  springs  and  rills, 
from  woodland  and  from  moor,  the  dragoons  of  Death 
rode  out  on  the  flood  and  bore  down  upon  them  ! 

Ben  awoke  with  a  cry  of  alarm.  He  was  wet 
through,  and  the  floor  of  their  hut  was  flooded !  With 
wild  thoughts  surging  through  his  brain  and  horrible 
fears  pals}ring  his  heart,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
looked  out.  And  there  before  his  eyes,  glistening  in 
the  morning  sunlight,  lay  one  vast  expanse  of  water ! 
The  island  was  already  submerged  by  the  flood,  and 
the  raft  gone  ! 

What  words  can  depict  the  horrors  of  that  moment ! 
Hope  ?  There  was  no  hope,  nothing  but  despair ! 
Great,  gigantic,  crushing  despair  !  Man  was  power- 
less —  he  could  not  push  back  the  hand  of  God ! 

The  fall  rains  had  swollen  the  northern  rivers,  and 
they  had  discharged  their  superabundance  into  the 
Mississippi,  and  that  stream  was  now  rising  at  the  rate 
of  a  foot  an  hour.  Already  it  was  over  the  island 
and  the  cotton  wood  brake  stood  in  a  field  of  water. 
Ben  would  have  been  aroused  sooner  were  it  not  that 
he  had  located  his  hut  on  a  little  knoll  in  the  sand, 


212  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

higher  by  a  foot  than  its  surroundings.  Bertha,  re- 
posing upon  an  elevation  of  boughs  within  still  slspt, 
but  the  hungry  river  was  now  licking  her  garments, 
impatient  for  its  prey.  For  an  instant  he  thought  to 
plunge  into  the  flood  and  end  his  miseries  at  once  and 
for  ever.  Then  he  looked  at  the  sleeping  girl  and  the 
prayer  sprang  to  his  lips  :  "  Oh  God  !  Take  me  but 
spare  her !  "  and  kneeling  by  her  side  he  gazed  so 
fondly  yet  so  sorrowfully  into  her  face,  and  then  waked 
her  with  a  kiss.  She  looked  up  with  a  smile.  But 
the  smile  quickly  turned  to  a  look  of  terror,  at  the 
words  quietly  but  earnestly  uttered : 

"  Bertha,  we  must  die.  There  is  no  help  for  us 
now.  The  river  is  rising.  It  has  covered  the  island. 
Our  raft  is  gone.  Death  will  be  upon  us  soon." 

With  a  wild  cry  the  girl  bounded  to  her  feet  and 
rushed  from  the  hut.  The  turbid  flood  stretched  all 
around  her,  and  she  stood  in  water  over  her  feet. 
She  turned  and  looked  at  Ben,  so  pityingly,  as  if  for 
relief.  Oh,  the  helpless  agony  of  that  look  !  He 
turned  away  his  head  with  a  groan,  and  did  not  dare 
to  look  at  her  again.  So  he  stood,  bowed  down  by 
unutterable  woe,  for  some  moments  ;  the  cruel  Avaters 
steadily  and  stealthily  — oh,  how  stealthily  creeping, 
creeping,  creeping,  with  a  low  plash,  plash,  plash,  like 
the  dull  senseless  whisper  of  a  devil  —  rising  around 
him.  Then  a  little  hand  was  placed  in  his,  and  an 
arm  laid  upon  his  neck  :  "  Our  Father  who  art  in 
Heaven,  fallowed  be  thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come 
thy  will  be  done  —  ."  He  raised  his  head  and  looked 
at  her  beside  him.  There  was  no  fear  there  now,  no 
tremor.  The  face  upturned  to  heaven  was  the  face 


DEATH  SHAKES  HANDS  WITH  THE  CASTAWAYS.     243 

of  an  angel.  "  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in 
Heaven."  Then  in  a  clear,  silvery  voice,  that  neither 
trembled  or  quavered,  the  souls  of  both  were  confided 
to  the  mercy  of  Him  above,  and  His  protection  and 
care  invoked  for  those  who  should  remain  upon  earth. 
There  was  no  supplication  for  life,  for  all  hope  now 
left  was  a  hope  for  the  life  immortal.  Long  did  that 
lovely  being  appeal  to  the  Most  High,  and  ere  she 
was  through,  a  strange  quiet  of  mind  and  peace  of 
heart  had  come  to  Ben. 

When  the  prayer  was  ended  they  locked  their  arms 
about  one  another  and  stood  —  waiting  for  death. 

Slowly,  but  how  awfully  sure,  the  waters  rose 
around  them.  Already  the  ripples  reached  their  hands 
as  they  stood  erect.  Soon  they  would  be  up  to  their 
breasts.  A  slight  current  was  already  agitating  the 
eddy  that  covered  the  bar,  and  it  caused  the  tops  of 
the  cotton  woods  to  nod  and  bend  in  the  water.  A 
little  while  longer  and  the  current  would  become  a 
torrent,  irresistible  in  its  might  and  fury.  Once  she 
looked  up  in  his  face,  and  said  : 

"  Is  it  not  hard  to  die,  dear  friend  ?  " 

And  Ben  answered :  "  No,  perhaps  it  is  best,"  and 
he  thought  death  was  a  relief.  It  had  lost  its  terrors 
and  he  did  not  fear  it.  * 

"Bertha,"  he  said,  "  it  cannot  matter  now,  — but 
—  it  would  be  a  last  earthly  happiness  to  me  —  tell 
me,  do  you  love  me  ? " 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  she  replied. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  darling,"  he  cried. 

"  God  bless  us  both,"  she  said.  "  Good-bye,"  and 
they  kissed  one  another  a  last  farewell,  forever. 


244  A   TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 

Slowly,  slowly,  oil  how  terrible  and  slow,  the  wa- 
ters crept,  up,  up,  up  !  The  current  grew  in  strength. 
The  cottonwoods  no  longer  nodded  their  heads,  but 
bent  down  in  the  flood.  The  feet  of  the  castaways 
refused  their  hold  upon  the  crumbling  sand.  Ben 
surged  with  all  his  strength  against  the  tide.  It  was 
of  no  avail.  Their  feet  slipped  from  under  them. 
The  river  grasped  them.  One  piercing  shriek,  one 
loud  cry — and  they  were  swept  away,  linked  in  one 
another's  arms  I 


THE   CRUISE   OF   THE    "  ROARER."  245 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

THE   CRUISE   OF  THE   "ROARER." 

IN  Bordeaux  a  man  in  cap  and  blouse  rolls  great 
wine  pipes  from  great  warehouses  down  to  great 
vessels  that  lie  at  the  quay.  These  vessels  take  the 
great  pipes  on  board  and  bear  them  to  the  four  cor- 
ners of  the  earth. 

Away  up  in  the  wilds  of  Arkansas  a  woodman 
swings  his  axe,  and  the  great  oak  topples  and  falls, 
with  a  roll  of  thunder,  to  the  ground. 

The  man  in  the  blouse  on  the  docks  of  Bordeaux 
has  never  seen,  nor  does  he  know  of  the  existence  of 
the  man  who  swings  his  axe  in  the  uninhabited  tim- 
bers of  the  White  River  bottoms.  They  do  not  speak 
the  same  language ;  they  do  not  worship  from  the 
same  religion ;  they  know  nothing  of  one  another  ; 
care  nothing.  And  yet  should  the  woodman  stop 
swinging  his  axe  the  man  in  the  blouse  would  stop 
rolling  barrels ;  for  the  iron  bands  that  girt  the  great 
wine  pipes  bind  together  a  mutual  interest  of  these 
two  humble  workmen,  so  many  thousand  miles  apart. 
And  so  the  woodman  in  the  forest  of  Arkansas  fells 
the  tall  white  oak  for  the  man  in  the  blouse,  in  Bor- 


246  „,  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

deaux.  Tell  him  so  and  he  will  laugh  "at  you.  Ex- 
plain it  to  him  and  he  will  say  the  reasoning  is  brought 
from  a  distance.  But  stop  his  axe  —  and  the  man  in 
Bordeaux  will  stop  rolling  the  pipes  of  wine  !  For  it 
is  the  staves  from  the  mighty  oak  on  the  White  River 
bottom  lands  that  hold  the  wine  on  the  docks  of  Bor- 
deaux. 

The  stave  timber  of  America  is  being  rapidly  ex- 
hausted. It  has  been,  and  it  is  a  source  of  much 
wealth.  But  a  few  years  ago,  Ohio,  Indiana  and 
Michigan  produced  good  staves  in  large  quantities. 
Now  their  production  is  very  limited,  and  they  have 
none  for  export.  Indeed  they  import  from  other 
states.  A  few  years  ago  Northern  Michigan  sent 
staves  to  Cadiz,  Spain  ;  but  her  timber  is  rapidly  dis- 
appearing. The  oak  forests  of  Arkansas  and  Tennes- 
see are  still  comparatively  fresh,  and  supply  many 
staves  to  Europe.  The  most  available  timber  is  that 
located  on  some  of  the  waterways  traversing  the  for- 
est, on  which  they  may  be  rafted  to  the  Mississippi  or 
put  in  flat  boats  at  their  "  banking  "  and  sent  to  New 
Orleans  direct.  The  forest  of  Eastern  Europe,  Rus- 
sia and  Hungary,  still  furnish  some  staves  ;  but  their 
trees  have  been  culled  over  these  centuries  past,  and 
the  New  World  must  be  looked  to  for  a  steady  supply. 

The  "Mary  Jane,  No.  2"  had  originally  left  the 
Virginia  shore,  a  short  distance  below  Wheeling, 
freighted  with  jugs  and  crocks. 

The  "  Mary  Jane,  No.  2  "  was  square  in  front  and 
square  behind,  and  much  resembled  an  enormous  dr}'- 
goods  box  loaded  with  pottery.  A  stovepipe  stuck 
from  her  deck,  "back  aft"  when  that  end  was  up 


THE   CRUISE   OF   THE    "  ROARER."  247 

stream,  and  "  up  for'ard "  when  she  had  swapped 
ends  ;  which  she  frequently  did.  An  oar  with  a  blade 
sixteen  feet  long  and  a  stem  fifty  feet,  hung  over  the 
end  opposite  the  stovepipe.  This  was  the  "gouger." 
A  similar  one,  but  with  a  much  shorter  stem,  hung  at 
the  stovepipe  end,  and  worked,  back  and  forth,  above 
that  article.  That  was  the  "  Steer'n  o'r."  Two  short 
heavy-stemmed  sweeps,  with  long  blades,  were  hung 
one  on  each  side.  They  were  all  pivoted  on  iron  pins, 
and  had  planks  laid  on  the  rounding  roof  of  the  craft 
for  the  crew  to  walk  upon  as  they  worked  them  with 
arms  extended  above  their  heads.  The  three  last 
named  "  oars  "  were  not  difficult  for  a  stout  man  to 
handle.  But  the  "  gouger,"  though  a  child  could  lift 
the  stem  and  dip  the  blade,  would  have  felled  an  ox 
with  the  rebound,  unless  the  ox  knew  how  to  catch  it 
and  hold  it  up. 

Such  was  the  "  Mary  Jane,  No.  2  "  ;  looking,  on 
the  river,  with  her  long,  leg-like  sweeps,  not  unlike  a 
pre-historic  June  bug.  From  Wheeling  to  Memphis 
she  supplied  the  inhabitants  with  brown  receptacles 
for  their  corn  juice,  and  at  Memphis  her  trip  ended 
and  she  was  dismantled.  This  last  being  accomplished 
by  taking  the  stove  out  of  her  "  cabin  "  and  remov- 
ing the  planks  of  her  decking.  Then  the  "  Mary 
Jane,  No.  2  "  lay  peacefully  soaking  in  the  waters  of 
Wolf  River  for  many  days,  until  the  acquisitive  eyes 
of  Cap'u  Willum  Smiff,  (pronounced  with  a  clear 
nose  and  a  mouth  unchoked  with  tobacco-juice,  Wil- 
liam Smith')  fell  upon  her.  When  she  engaged  the 
attention  of  those  orbs  a  change  came  over  the  peace- 
ful life  of  the  "  Mary  Jane."  The  name  "  Mary 


248  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Jane,  No.  2  "  passed  into  history,  and  the  more  robust 
and  sounding  title  of  "  Roarer  "  adorned  her  stern. 
With  the  new  nomenclature  came  a  new  existence. 
With  Cap'n  Willum  Smiff  at  the  "  steer'n  o'r  "  and 
Lieutenant  Jeremiah  Jarphly  at  the  "  gouger "  the 
"  Roarer "  sailed  for  the  St.  Francis  river  and  was 
cordelled  a  short  distance  up  that  stream.  There  she 
loaded  with  pipe  and  barrel  staves  for  the  man  in  the 
blouse  on  the  quay  in  Bordeaux.  The  stovepipe  was 
transferred  to  the  centre  of  the  craft,  where  it  stuck 
up  belching  smoke  and  fire  like  a  juvenile  Popocata- 
petl.  Beneath  the  stack  was  now  a  dirty  little  cabin, 
twelve  feet  square,  with  bunks  on  three  sides,  the 
stove  in  the  centre,  and  a  home-made  wooden  table 
with  two  similarly  constructed  stools  for  furniture. 
Both  cabin  and  bunks  were  formed  of  tiers  of  staves. 
She  carried  a  crew  of  six  men  besides  Cap'n  Willum 
Smiff  and  Lieutenant  Jeremiah  Jarphly ;  and  the 
"  Roarer  "  cast  off  her  lines  and  set  sail  for  New  Or- 
leans. 

When  Cap'n  Willum  Smiff  appeared  "  on  deck  " 
that  morning,  after  a  short  nap  on  a  coil  of  rope,  he 
said  "How'dy"  to  Lieutenant  Jarphly  and  gracefully 
tilted  a  jug  to  his  lips  ;  the  body  of  the  vessel  repos- 
ing on  his  elbow  —  a  feat  that  Cap'n  Smiff  was  quite 
proud  of.  Then  Lieutenant  Jarphly  tilted  it  like- 
wise, and  as  he  rubbed  his  mouth  on  his  shirt  sleeve, 
said : 

"  River's  risin',  Cap'n." 

"  Yas,  by  ginger  !  "  replied  Cap'n  Smiff.  "  Risin' 
a  boomin',  by  ginger  !  Driftwood  comin'  down  a  skal- 
lehutin',  by  ginger  !  Whar  air  we,  Jerry  ?  " 


THE    CRUISE   OF   THE    "  ROARER."  249 

"  Wuthin  a  few  miles  uv  Frenchman's  pint,"  replied 
his  Lieutenant. 

"  Sho  as  yoh  live,  by  ginger  !  "  said  Cap'n  Smiff , 
and  then  he  and  Lieutenant  Jarphly  took  a  long  and 
meditative  look  at  the  river  and  their  surroundings. 

"  Jerry,  how  much's  she  riz  ? "  presently  asked  the 
commander. 

"  'Bout  five  fut,  I  reckon." 

"  By  ginger  !  " 

Then  followed  another  meditation  and  contempla- 
tion. 

"  Jerry  doh  yoh  know  wot  I've  a  mind  toh  doh  ?  " 
asked  the  Cap'n,  and  Mr.  Jarphly  confessing  an  igno- 
rance of  his  intentions  Cap'n  Smiff  continued  : 

"  I've  a  right  smart  notion  of  tryin'  Nigger  Head 
chute !  " 

"  No  !     Go  way  !  "  said  Jerry. 

"  Sho  as  yoh  live,  I'll  be  ginger-gingered  to  ginger 
ef  I  aint!  See  here,  by  ginger.  Las'  time  I  wus 
down  I  noticed  a  powerful  strong  kerrent  settin'  in 
'round  Frenchman's  pint,  inter  the  old  channel. 
'Taint  morn  ten  yars  ago  sense  we  yosed  toh  go  that 
channel,  Jerry.  Hit  wus  right  arter  the  spring  flood 
of  sixty-six,  when  the  river  cut  thro'  up  at  Bordens, 
thet  the  kerrent  shot  off  the  pint  instead  of  a  goin' 
around  hit,  an'  left  thet  great,  big  san'  flat  thar,  five 
miles  wide.  Now  thet  she's  bruk  thro'  onto  Hem- 
pen's  Landin'  the  kerrent's  changin'  agin,  an'  when  I 
kern  up  on  the  Bismark  frum  thet  las'  trip  I  was  down, 
I  wus  up  in  the  pilot  house  'long  with  Jeff  Neff,  an'  I 
pinted  it  out  to  Jeff,  an'  Jeff  sed  as  how  he  'lowed 
thar'd  be  the  channel  agin  afore  nex'  spring!  I've 
a  heap  mind  toh  try  it ;  —  by  ginger ! " 


250  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

But  Lieutenant  Jarphly  was  averse  to  the  experi- 
ment. For  the  reason,  perhaps,  that  with  nautical 
prescience,  he  knew  that  it  involved  some  extra  ex- 
ertions upon  the  gouger.  The  more  he  objected, 
however,  the  more  Cap'u  Srniff  was  determined  upon 
the  undertaking. 

"  By  ginger  !  I'll  doh  it,  I  swar  I  will !  See  here, 
Jerry,  less  see  wot  luck's  in  hit,"  and  he  picked  up  a 
broad  stave,  and  expectorating  a  puddle  of  tobacco- 
juice  on  one  side  of  it,  remarked : 

"  No  fur  hit,  Jerry  ;  chute  or  no  chute  —  wet  or 
dry  ?  Sing  out !  "  and  he  whirled  the  stave  in  the 
air. 

"  Dry  !  "  cried  Jerry. 

t;  Wet  she  is,  by  ginger  !  "  said  Cap'n  Srniff,  con- 
templating his  sign  manual,  and  little  dreaming  that 
the  lives  of  two  human  beings  had  hung  upon  the  re- 
sult. 

"  Wet  she  is;  and  the  chute  we  take.     Oars!" 

This  last  brought  the  crew  from  their  slumbers  to 
the  sweeps,  and  with  steady  strokes  they  commenced 
propelling  the  "  Roarer  "  toward  the  distant  point. 

"  I  want  toh  hug  the  pint,  near  as  I  kin,"  explained 
Cap'n  Smiff.  "  Ef  we  stan'  toh  fur  out  the  kerrent 
will  take  us  over  to  the  bend,  an'  we'll  never  make 
the  chute." 

But  the  "  oars  "  were  well  manned  and  whatever 
else  his  ignorance,  Captain  Smith  was  a  thorough  flat 
boat's  man,  and  understood  the  river.  He  certainly 
ought  to  have  been  for  from  boy  to  man  he  had  de- 
voted forty  years  of  his  life  to  the  study  of  the  sci- 
ence, and  all  in  the  world  he  had  to  show  for  it  was 


THE    CRUISE   OF   THE    "  KOAEEE." 

the  greasy  clothes  on  his  Lack.  The  "  Roarer  "  and 
cargo  belonged  to  a  Memphis  firm  that  employed 
Cap'n  Smiff  when  he  was  sober.  Still  Cap'n  Sniiff 
was  a  happier  man,  in  his  way,  than  many  whose  pos- 
sessions are  much  more  extensive.  His  wants  wefe 
small,  and  his  vices  cheap. 

As  they  hugged  the  point,  he  called  out  to  Jarphly : 

"  Give  her  the  gouger,  Jerry  !  "  and  two  of  the 
crew  leaving  the  sweeps,  went  to  Jerry's  assistance, 
for  the  gouger  was  too  much  for  one  man. 

"  Ram  hit  toh  her !  Cram  hit  toll  her!  Slam  hit 
toll  her !  Jam  hit  toh  her  !  "  yelled  Cap'n  Smiff,  who 
was  executing  a  nervous  hornpipe  with  the  "  steer'n 
o'r  "  between  his  legs. 

"  She  takes  hit !  Now  she  takes  hit !  Thar  ! 
That'll  do,"  and  the  great  box  swung  around  the 
point,  and  headed  for  the  chute  —  the  first  vessel  to 
cruise  the  old  roadway  for  ten  years  !  That  was  the 
feather  Cap'n  Willum  Smiff  wanted  to  stick  in  his 
nautical  cap. 

And  now  that  the  "  Roarer  "  was  headed  right,  the 
men  bridled  their  oars  and  lounged  lazily  on  the 
staves. 

Suddenly  one  arose  with  a  shout  and  cried  to  his 
companions : 

"  What's  that  ?  Look  there  !  For  God's  sake, 
look!  Look!" 

"  Whar?  "  asked  Cap'n  Smiff. 

"  There  !  There  !  "  and  the  man's  eyes  started  as 
he  pointed  down  the  chute. 

"  Great  Jehovah  !  "  cried  the  captain,  "  Git  in  the 
skiff  an'  go  after  them,  quick,  quick !  "  and  before  his 


252  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

commands  could  be  executed  be  himself  was  seated 
in  the  skiff  that  was  being  towed  along  side  of  the 
flat  boat,  and  in  another  moment  was  shooting  down 
the  stream,  the  boat  springing  like  a  race  horse  under 
the  powerful  strokes  of  his  oars.  And  he  was  none 
too  quick  —  none  too  soon.  For  as  he  reached  the 
man  and  woman  clinging  together  in  the  center  of  a 
sea  of  waters,  their  feet  went  from  under  them,  and 
the  next  instant,  torn  asunder,  they  would  have  been 
beyond  the  reach  of  Cap'n  Smith's  powerful  arm. 
He  seized  the  woman  by  the  hair  and  dragged  her 
into  the  skiff,  the  man  clinging  to  the  gunwale  until 
she  was  safely  on  board,  and  then  crawling  over  him- 
self. Both  lay  in  a  dead  faint  on  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  while  Cap'n  Smiff,  with  great  beads  of  cold 
sweat  starting  from  his  forehead  and  rolling  down 
over  his  furrowed  countenance,  sat  with  his  arms 
hanging  limp  and  lifeless  by  his  side,  and  with  eyes 
blankly  staring  at  the  two  forms  before  him,  muttered 
over  and  over : 

"  Great  Jehovah  !     Great  Jehovah  !  " 

And  let  you  and  I,  gentle  reader,  echo  the  words, 

though  in  a  different  humor  : 

i 
"  Great  JEHOVAH  ! ' 


BEN  LOSES   HOPE   AND   TURNS   NAVIGATOR.      253 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

BEN  LOSES   HOPE   AND   TURNS   NAVIGATOR. 

WHEN  the  captain  regained  the  "  Roarer  "  and 
Bertha  and  Ben  were  safely  stowed  in  the 
little  stave-cabin,  with  kind  faces  bending  over  and 
kind  hands  ministering  to  them,  Cap'n  Willum  Snuff 
walked  slowly  toward  Lieutenant  Jeremiah  Jarphly 
and  said  : 

"  Jerry,  yoh  recommember  this  morn'  when  we 
tossed  thet  thar  stave  fur  the  chute  or  agin  hit  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  Jerry,  thet  wus  a  bowed  stave,  an'  I  spit  on 
the  bowed  side  of  hit,  an'  by  rights  the  bowed  side 
oughter  hev  cum  down  — but  hit  did't,  Jerry." 

"No." 

.  Then  Cap'n  Smiff  looked  hard  at  his  Lieutenant, 
as  though  he  was  trying  to  shape  some  unfamiliar 
thoughts  into  words. 

"No,  hit  didn't,  Jerry.  The  bent  side  didn't  come 
down  —  it  come  up.  An'  it  war  agin  science,  Jerry  ; 
but  hit  come  up  an'  we  tuk  toll  the  chute,  an'  —  an' 
mought  hev  sumthin'  —  thar  mought  somebody — I 
dunno  —  I  swarl  dunno  !"  and,  as  though  the  unfa- 


254  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

miliar  thoughts  were  muddling  his  brain,  Cap'n  Wil- 
lum  Smiff  walked  back  to  the  stem  of  the  "  steer'n 
o'r,"  and  slowly  straddling  it,  deluged  his  surroundings 
in  tobacco  juice,  while  he  lost  himself  in  profound  med- 
itation. 

There  are  others  than  unsophisticated  Captain  Wil- 
liam Smith  who  have  pondered  deeply  on  the  same 
subject,  and  been  lost  at  sea  far  from  the  lighthouse 
of  FAITH. 

That  evening  found  the  "  Roarer  "  with  a  line  out 
to  a  check  post  on  the  levee  below  the  city  of  Vicks- 
burg.  On  parting  from  the  crew  of  the  flatboat  Ber- 
tha had  distributed  all  she  had  of  value  about  her 
person  among  them,  and  bestowed  upon  Cap'n  Smith 
a  glittering  diamond  cluster  ring  from  off  her  hand. 
Cap'n  Willum  Smiff  at  first  refused  to  take  it,  but 
comprehending  that  he  would  hurt  the  young  lady's 
feelings  by  refusing  longer,  he  suspended  the  jewel 
with  a  piece  of  tow  about  his  neck,  and  vowed  that 
there  it  should  stay  'till  death  did  them  part.  Alas, 
for  the  fragile  nature  of  human  vows  !  In  less  than 
a  week  the  diamonds  glistened  on  the  person  of  a  New 
Orleans  bar-tender ;  hypothecated  for  drinks  ;  while 
Cap'n  Willum  Smiff  and  Lieutenant  Jarphly  were  on 
one  of  their  "  Reglar  Pelican  Sprees  !  A  howlin' 
Wilderness  !  You  bet !  " 

After  Bertha  had  been  comfortably  cared  for  in  bed 
at  the  hotel,  where  she  immediately  retired  under  the 
direction  of  a  physician,  Ben,  first  refreshing  him- 
self with  a  good  meal,  which  she  insisted  upon  his 
eating,  went  to  the  telegraph  office  and  sent  the  fol- 
lowing message  to  Mr.  Charles  Braster  of  the  firm  of 


BEX   LOSES    HOPE   AND    TURNS    NAVIGATOR.      255 

B raster  &  Chetwick,  Poydras  S.treet,  New  Orleans: 
"  Your  niece  is  here  safe.  Is  Mr.  Braster  in  the 
city  ?  "  •  And  then  with  a  heating  heart  lie  awaited  a 
reply.  For  Ben  had  formed  new  hopes,  and  thought 
that  perhaps  the  disaster  on  the  Argenta  might  after 
all  have  been  a  stroke  of  good  fortune  in  his  favor. 
In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  an  answer  was  returned, 
and  as  the  boy  delivered  it  to  him,  he  had  not  the 
courage  to  look  at  it.  He  unfolded  the  dispatch, 
trembled,  then  folding  it  up  again  without  reading, 
placed  it  in  his  pocket  and  hastened  toward  the  hotel. 
Having  walked  a  block  he  gained  heart,  and  slowly 
taking  the  dispatch  from  his  pocket,  unfolded  it  and 
read: 

"Thank  God.  Arthur  and  myself  are  both  here 
safe.  Come  down  on  the  Natchez  to-night." 

(signed)        "  CHARLES  BRASTER." 

That  was  all.  But  it  was  quite  enough.  His  last 
hope  lay  in  the  dust.  "  Arthur  and  myself  are  here 
safe."  He  read  it  again  as  if  hoping  against  hope. 
Blackoat  was  saved  !  Blackoat  was  safe  and  the  idol 
of  his  life  had  passed  from  his  grasp. 

He  could  not  meet  her  again  ;  he  dared  not.  Seat- 
ing himself  in  the  office  of  the  hotel  he  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing note : 

DEAR  Miss  BERTHA  :  —  I  wish  you  joy.  Both  of 
your  relatives  are  safe.  Oh,  Bertha,  I  dare  not  see 
you  again,  my  darling,  my  darling.  Pardon  my  weak- 
ness, but  if  you  only  knew  how  sore  my  heart  is  you 
would  pity  me.  We  will  probably  never  meet  again. 
May  your  life  be  one  of  joy  and  happiness.  You  will 
do  your  duty  nobly  —  I  will,  please  God,  try  to  do 


250  A   TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 

mine.  God  bless  you,  my  darling,  God  bless  you. 
May  your  future  be  as  full  of  sunlight  as  the  labor  of 
my  life  would  have  made  it.  Again  farewell  — 
Heaven  bless  you.  BEX." 

Having  dispatched  this  to  Bertha  with  the  telegram 
he  walked  out  into  the  street  —  again  a  tramp.  And 
a  tramp  with  a  sad,  sad  heart. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  September.  He  was  two 
hundred  miles  by  land  and  twice  as  many  by  river 
from  New  Orleans,  and  had  but  a  day  more  and  a  por- 
tion of  October  the  2d  to  win  his  wager  in.  His 
chances  looked  desperate.  But  he  was  indifferent 
whether  he  won  or  lost.  A  dull,  dead  apathy  to 
everything  had  taken  possession  of  him.  He  felt  that 
it  was  a  luxury  to  be  a  vagabond,  an  outcast,  a  tramp, 
and  half  inclined  not  to  go  to  New  Orleans  at  all,  but 
to  start  off  on  a  roving  career,  and  ramble,. ramble, 
ramble,  trying  to  get  away  from  himself. 

"  Ye're  a  stout  looking  lad ;  can  ye  handle  a  barry  ? 
If  ye  can  I'm  taking  down  a  gang  of  fifty  min  the 
night  to  Burk's  work  on  the  levee  fifteen  mile  this 
side  of  Baton  Rouge,  and  if  yez  wants  to  come  along, 
a  dollar  a  day  and  four  jiggers  is  the  pay,"  and  the 
stout  florid  man  who  addressed  him  asked : 

"  Will  'yez  go  or  not  ?  Make  yer  answer  quick,  for 
I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"  Yes,  I'm  in  for  a  job,  and  ready,"  replied  Ben, 
seizing  the  opportunity  to  1  ave  Vicksburg. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  man.  "  Go  down  and  get 
aboord  the  Rodcty  for  she'll  be  laving  in  an  hour.  I 
will  see  ye  on  boord  and  pass  yez  down." 

So  on  board  the  Roddy  went  Ben,  and  before  she 


BEN  LOSES   HOPE  AND   TURNS   NAVIGATOR.      257 

started  forty  more  men  engaged  for  the  levee  squad 
had  joined  him.  In  ten  minutes'  conversation  with 
these  he  discovered  that  not  one  half  of  them  had  any 
intention  of  working  on  the  levee.  They  were  simply 
travelling.  Some  were,  like  himself,  on  their  way  to 
New  Orleans.  Others  were  off  of  the  great  Harvest 
Range,  and  had  already  stole  their  way  thus  far  and 
were  simply  "  putting  in  the  winter."  That  is,  drift- 
ing from  place  to  place  as  sweet  fancy  directed  them. 
They  would  stop  at  the  levee  camp  and  live  off  of  its 
rations  until  hunted  out,  after  which  they  would  take 
up  their  line  of  tramping  without  an  object  in  view 
or  an  ambition  to  prompt  them.  As  they  went  down 
stream  now,  so  the  spring  would  see  them  going  up, 
and  the  summer  months  find  them  scattered  through 
the  northern  states.  Had  one  of  them  been  termed 
a  professional  tramp  or  "  dead  beat "  he  would  have 
repelled  the  insinuation  with  indignation.  They  were 
after  work  but  never  caught  up  with  it.  There  were 
some  Americans  in  the  crowd  on  the  boat  but  the  ma- 
jority were  foreigners. 

"  Why  don't  you  stay  and  work  at  the  levee  ?  " 
Ben  asked  one  of  them ;  "  you  can  earn  a  dollar  a 
day  at  it." 

"  I'm  a  brick  mason,"  he  replied.  "  I  can  not  do 
levee  work.  Neither  can  you,  as  you'll  find  out  if 
you  stop  and  try  it." 

"  But  is  there  no  other  work  save  leveeing  in  the 
country  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  there's  cotton  picking.  Lots  of  the 
bums  work  all  winter  at  it.  They  get  from  seventy- 
five  cents  to  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  hundred,  and  can 


258  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

earn  from  one  to  two  dollars  a  clay.  But  the  living  is 
beastly  !  The  southern  people  mean  well  enough,  but 
they  have  no  idea  how  a  laboring  man  is  treated  up 
north,  and  they  use  you  just  the  same  as  they  do  the 
niggers  ;  give  you  rations  —  a  peck  of  corn  meal,  five 
pounds  of  salt  pork  and  a  pound  of  salt  a  week. 
You  take  this  and  cook  it  the  best  way  you  can,  and 
sleep  in  the  cotton  pen,  or  any  where  you  please  — 
that's  your  lookout.  Working  for  the  niggers,  a  man 
gets  treated  a  great  deal  better  than  he  does  working 
for  the  white  people.  The  niggers  feed  you  better 
and  they  are  surer  pay." 

"  What !  "  cried  Ben  ;  "  Do  the  colored  people  em- 
ploy white  men  ?  " 

"  Do  they  ?  Well  I  should  say.  Thousands  of 
'em  every  winter.  A  good  many  of  the  blacks  own 
land  and  are  well  fixed,  while  nearly  all  of  them  that 
don't  own  no  land  of  their  own,  work  land  on  shares." 

Ben  shortly  found  a  clean  spot  on  the  deck  and  ly- 
ing down  took  a  much  needed  sleep. 

It  was  early  morning,  and  still  dark,  when  they  dis- 
embarked at  the  camp.  The  men  were  all  up,  how- 
ever, and  as  he  passed  through  one  of  the  sheds  he 
had  an  opportunity  for  investigating  the  mysteries  of 
a  levee  camp.  There  was  not  much  to  see.  A  long 
line  of  rough  board  bunks,  two  tier  high,  were  ranged 
on  both  sides  of  the  shanty,  that  was  supposed  to  ac- 
commodate four  hundred  men.  That  was  all.  No 
other  furniture,  no  other  necessaries  or  comfort.  Ben 
thought  it  a  close  approach  to  a  stable.  Which  in- 
deed it  was,  only  the  animals  cared  for  were  human. 
While  looking  about  him  a  bell  rang,  at  sound  of 


BEN  LOSES   HOPE   AND   TUEN3   NAVIGATOE.      2o9 

which  there  was  a  general  cry  of  "  Jiggers !  Jiggers  !  " 
and  a  rush  by  the  four  hundred  for  the  outside,  where 
they  surged  in  impatience  about  a  man  mounted  on  a 
barrel,  who  was  dealing  out  whiskey  to  them  in  a  small 
tin  cup.  This  was  the  "  Jigger  boss,"  and  four  of 
these  cupfuls  of  the  liquor  were  a  man's  daily  rations. 
After  all  had  received  their  jiggers,  the  cry  of 
"grub  pile  !  gnib  pile  !  "  was  taken  up  by  the  crowd, 
and  a  rush  made  for  a  long  line  of  tables  standing  un- 
der another  shed.  These  were  loaded  with  tin  plates 
and  pannikins,  iron  forks  and  knives,  stacks  of  sno  wy 
wheat  bread,  (for  the  levees  have  as  fine  bread  as 
there  is  in  the  country)  juvenile  mountains  of  smok- 
ing "salt-horse,"  and  immense  platters  of  the  fruit 
known  as  the  "  spud  laurel,"  while  great  pots  of  a 
dirty  brown  liquid,  facetiously  termed  "  coffee-"  were 
liberally  scattered  about.  This  constituted  breakfast. 
Our  hero  ate  heartily,  aided  in  his  gastronomic  efforts 
by  a  number  of  tallow  dips  stuck  in  their  own  grease 
along  the  tables  at  intervals,  and  which  were  continu- 
ally being  knocked  over  by  the  banqueters  as  they 
passed  along  the  food.  The  repast  finished  Ben  went 
with  the  crowd  to  the  levee,  just  as  it  became  light 
enough  to  see  to  work.  There  he  became  proprietor 
of  a  shovel  and  wheelbarrow,  and  was  stationed  in  a 
line  with  twelve  others  ;  similar  squads  occupying  the 
levee-line  for  a  distance  of  half  a  mile.  Scarce  had 
he  thrown  three  shovels  full  of  dirt  into  his  vehicle, 
when  a  shrill  little  voice  piped  out,  "  up  all !  "  and 
the  line  began  to  wheel  their  barrows  up  a  steep  in- 
cline of  planks,  on  to  the  broad  "  dump  "  that  consti- 
tuted the  levee  they  were  building. 


260  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

"  Oye,  ye  little  dyvil,  yez  is  at  it  airly  ! "  shouted 
one. 

"  He  haven't  a  spoonful  of  dirt  in  his  barry !  "  said 
another. 

"  Be  jazez,  we'll  chuck  him  into  the  drink  !  "  said 
a  third. 

"  And  the  dyvil  fly  away  wid  the  bones  of  the  little 
ferrit !  "  cried  a  fourth. 

These  remarks  were  directed  at  a  little  withered-up 
old  man  who  was  "  fore-barrow  man,"  or  leader  of  the 
gang. 

"  If  McCarty  don't  take  that  lad  and  put  him  to 
sturring  pots  in  the  soup  house,  we'll  murther  him  !  " 
exclaimed  an  exasperated  levee  builder  in  the  line. 

"  Can't  he  purt  a  dacent  man  that'll  do  a  dacent 
day's  wurruk  in  the  lade,  and  not  be  havin'  that  ca- 
nary there  killin'  of  the  rnin  wid  his  '  up  alls  '  an'  his 
own  barry  without  the  bottom  of  it  covered  ?  " 

"  Dyvil  blow  McCarty  and  dyvil  blow  little  Dinny, 
but  I'll  crish  the  skull  av  him  in  wid  a  blow  of  me 
shovel  if  he  don't  be  loadin  his  barry,  and  not  run- 
ning the  feet  off  av  us !  " 

The  little  man  treated  the  remarks  with  dignified 
indifference,  and  his  "  up  alls "  continued  to  be  a 
theme  of  hot  maledictions.  He  was  a  little  used  up 
old  levee  builder,  whose  only  usefulness  now  consisted 
in  his  being  able  to  hurry  the  rest  of  the  gang,  as  a 
"  fore-barrow  "  ;  a  position  that  no  good  laborer  would 
have  cared  to  have  filled  with  the  intention  of  impos- 
ing on  his  co-laborers. 

The  third  time  Ben  wheeled  his  "buggy"  up  the 
steep  incline  of  planks,  he  wheeled  it  off,  and  both  he 


BEN    LOSES    HOPE    AND   TURNS    NAVIGATOR.       261 

and  the  barrow  had  a  fall  of  six  feet  much  to  the  hi- 
larity of  the  gang.  This  happened  to  him  twice  in 
succession,  and  as  he  was  ascending  the  third  time  off 
he  went,'  and  toppled  the  plank  over  with  him,  bring- 
ing three  other  barrows  and  their  navigators  to  the 
ground.  A  loud  howl  of  execrations  greeted  this 
catastrophe.  Our  hero  was  called  a  "  watchmaker  !  " 
"a  flute-player !"  "a  dancing-master!"  "a  mud- 
clark  !  "  "  a  '  sodden ' !  "  "  To  go  tip  the  plank  over 
on  the  min  ! "  "  Waz  it  their  loif  he  waz  afther  ! " 
"  Sure  it's  graves  he  should  be  using  his  shovel  at, 
and  not  livyin' ! " 

The  howlings  attracted  the  walking-boss  to  the  spot. 

"  What  the  dyvil  did  yez  go  for  to  tip  the  plank 
over  on  the  rnin  for  ?  "  he  asked. 

Ben  replied  that  it  was  an  accident. 

"  An  Occident  !  Howly  Mother  !  An  wazn't  the 
plank  afoor  yer  nose  ?  Would  yez  want  a  barn  flure 
to  roll  the  barry  on  ?  " 

Ben  mollified  the  boss's  wrath  by  telling  him  of  his 
late  shipwreck  and  the  weakness  caused  thereby. 

"  Well,  ye  poor  dyvil,  yez  doan't  want  to  be  stop- 
pin'  on  the  livy.  Every  year  there  do  be  rigirnints 
of  min  that's  not  fit  to  shovel  sawdust,  come  tramping 
along,  and  aten'  the  camps  up.  But  you've  been 
missfourtinate.  The  best  yez'll  do  for  yersel  will  be 
to  get  to  New  Orleans  and  pick  up  a  job  yez  'ud  be 
more  used  to.  Go  yez  now  to  the  cook's  shanty  and 
tell  thini  to  give  yez  bread  and  mate ;  that'll  stay  by 
yez  till  ye  make  Baton  Rouge,  and  then  yez  can  get 
on  a  boat  the  night  and  be  in  New  Orleans  in  the 
mornin'." 


262  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

Ben  thanked  the  kind  hearted  boss,  and  started 
down  the  levee  with  a  big  package  of  bread  and 
"  salt-horse "  under  his  arm.  He  arrived  at  Baton 
Rouge,  the  former  capital  of  the  State  of  Louisiana, 
after  dusk,  and  during  the  evening,  crawled  in  among 
the  cotton  bales  of  a  Yazoo  River  stern-wheel  freight- 
boat.  No  one  was  on  the  lookout  for  passengers,  as 
the  boat  carried  none,  so  he  was  left  undisturbed, 
and  soon  fell  into  a  sound  sleep. 

Daylight  was  beaming  upon  him  when  he  was 
awakened  by  a  rough  shake. 

"  Git  up  boss,  git  up.  We  muss  have  dis  yere  bale 
ob  cotton ! " 

He  awoke  to  find  the  boat  stopped,  and  a  gang  of 
black  long-shore  men  unloading  her. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Whare  are  yere  ?  Why  yere  at  New  Oil'ns,  ob 
course ! " 

New  Orleans ! 

The  tramp  was  done  ! 

The  wager  won ! 

New  Orleans  I 


NEW   ORLEANS,    10   A.   M.,   OCT.    2D.  263 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

NEW   ORLEANS,    10   A.   M.,   OCT.    2D. 

OUR  hero  could  scarcely  realize  that  he  was  at 
last  in  New  Orleans.  That  New  Orleans,  so 
pregnant  with  his  hopes  and  attainings.  New  Or- 
leans, his  thought  by  day  and  dream  by  night.  New 
Orleans,  the  first  accomplishment  of  his  life  ! 

Yet  so  it  was.  He  was  safely  landed  in  New  Or- 
leans, and  it  was  the  morning  of  the  second  of  Octo- 
ber ! 

"  What  time  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  sprang  on 
shore. 

"  Nine  o'clock,"  replied  a  gentleman  looking  at  his 
watch. 

Nine  o'clock !  And  at  ten  o'clock  Srnythe  would 
be  awaiting  his  telegram  in  New  York  City ! 

Twenty  thousand  dollars,  fairly  won  !  And  then 
came  a  dull,  dead  pain  that  nipped  his  exultations. 
What  if  it  were  twenty  times  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars ?  The  money  could  not  give  him  happiness.  He 
had  lost  what  money  could  not  recover.  What  was 
the  vile  stuff  but  a  tantalization?  An  allurement 
that  promised  everything  and  was  empty  of  fulfill- 
ments ? 


264  A   TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 

Plold  on,  friend  Ben,  don't  speak  disrespectfully  of 
money.  Money  is  the  lever  that  moves  the  world, 
and  love  the  fulcrum  it  rests  upon.  Had  you  a  for- 
tune would  not  the  lady  of  your  affections  be  within 
your  reach?  Is  she  not  selling  herself  to  Arthur 
Blackoat,  and  would  she  not  much  rather  effect  the 
sale  with  you  ?  The  sale  is  to  be  a  sacrifice,  Ben,  a 
sacrifice  —  the  highest  bidder  takes  her. 

Then  a  great  flash  of  hope  illuminated  his  counte- 
nance. She  had  confessed  she  loved  him.  Aye,  had 
given  herself  to  him,  and  he  had  sacrificed  her  him- 
self on  the  altar  of  Mammon  for  the  good  of  her 
mother  and  that  little  bed-ridden  sister.  But  circum- 
stances were  altered.  He  was  now  possessed  of  a 
small  fortune.  Twenty  thousand  dollars  awaited  his 
call  in  New  York  City,  while  four  hundred,  had,  per 
agreement,  been  sent  to  a  correspondent  at  New  Or- 
leans and  Avas  now  subject  to  his  order.  Twenty 
thousand  four  hundred  dollars !  It  was  quite  a  sum 
of  money.  Twenty  thousand  dollars,  judiciously  in- 
vested, would  afford  an  income  of  twelve  or  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  per  annum.  Enough  for  two  persons 
to  live  quite  comfortably  on.  He  would  give  the 
whole -of  it  to  Bertha's  mother  and  sister.  He  would 
present  them  with  the  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and 
keeping  the  four  hundred  for  a  start  in  life,  marry  the 
girl  he  loved  and  be  happy. 

Remember,  gentle  reader,  Ben  was  young  and  san- 
guine, and  unmarried.  His  mother-in-law,  at  the  time, 
was  in  embryo.  V/e  older  heads  look  at  these  things 
differently. 

What  a  wonderful  change  the  face  of  nature  wore 


NEW   ORLEANS,    10   A.   M.,   OCT.    2D.  265 

after  these  bright  hopes  and  satisfactory  intentions 
had  possession  of  him.  Everything  was  light,  airy, 
joyous,  happy.  He  could  fairly  have  shouted  aloud 
in  the  fullness  of  his  heart,  and  offered  up  many  a 
mental  thanksgiving  as  he  hurried  up  Canal  Street. 
Had  his  feelings  not  been  so  surcharged  with  resur- 
rected hopes  he  might  have  noticed  that  he  was  on 
the  handsomest  thoroughfare  in  the  world.  A  street 
that  has  not  its  equal  in  any  city  on  the  globe.  The 
beauties  of  architecture  that  line  it  are  not  prominent 
(with  the  exception  of  one  of  the  most  ornate  pieces 
of  iron  architecture  in  America,  that  stood  at  the  foot 
of  it  and  in  the  very  centre  of  the  street.  It  is  now 
demolished,  but  a  few  years  ago  was  one  of  the  curi- 
osities of  the  city.)  It  is  not  the  buildings  that  make 
Canal  Street  the  thing  of  beauty  it  is,  but  it  is  the 
great,  wide  picturesque  street  itself,  with  its  tram- 
ways and  grass-plots  and  trees  and  banquettes  in  the 
very  centre  of  it,  and  its  broad  roadways  on  each 
side.  A  noble  artery  for  the  great  city. 

But  Ben  cared  little  about  streets  or  cities  just 
then.  His  mind  and  body  were  alive  with  new  pro- 
jects for  a  gladsome  future.  He  passed  a  jeweller's 
and  learned  the  time.  It  was  exactly  twenty-five 
minutes  past  nine.  The  time  was  exact.  Regulated 
to  a  second  from  the  observatory  at  Washington  daily. 
In  five  minutes  more  he  had  turned  down  St.  Charles 
Street  and  entered  the  rotunda  of  the  St.  Charles  ho- 
tel. He  quivered  with  suppressed  excitement  as  he 
wrote  : 

"New  Orleans,  Oct.  2d,  9.30  A.  M.,  St.  Charles 
Hotel. 


266  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

'•'I am  here.     Answer  immediately. 

"  Benjamin  Cleveland. 

"  To  Algernon  Smythe,  Esq.,  Park  Row,  New 
York  City." 

When  he  had  handed  this  to  the  operator,  and  seen 
him  tick  it  off  upon  his  wonderful  little  instrument, 
he  felt  quieter,  and  sat  down  to  await  the  reply. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  depict  Ben's  thoughts  as  he 
sat  there.  Suffice  it  for  us  to  know  that  they  were 
one  great  swell  of  triumph,  and  the  pictures  of  fu- 
ture happiness  that  floated  before  his  fancy  were  gor- 
geous with  crimson  and  gold.  Just  as  the  hands  of 
the  clock  announced  ten  o'clock,  the  operator  called  to 
him,  and  with  the  remark  that  the  matter  had  been 
expeditiously  attended  to,  handed  him  the  following 
dispatch  : 

"  Park  Row,  New  York  City,  ) 
October  2d,  10.45  A.  M.  } 

"  Dear  boy,  we  all  sympathize  with  you.  Your 
dispatch  came  to  hand  fifteen  minutes  ago.  You  have 
lost  by  thirty  minutes.  Money  has  been  paid  to 
Smythe. 

"  John  Hough,  stake-holder. 

"  Augustus  Wasson,  referee." 

Ben  read  it,  and  reread  it,  and  read  it  over  and  over 
again.  The  date  caught  his  eye,  "10.45  A.  M."  He 
looked  at  the  clock  in  the  rotunda  ;  it  was  but  ten 
o'clock  and  five  minutes  then.  He  called  the  operator's 
attention  to  it. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  you  see  the  difference  between  New 
York  and  New  Orleans  time  is  sixty-two  minutes. 
When  it  is  nine-thirty  here,  it  is  a  little  past  ten-thirty 


NEW   ORLEANS,    10   A.    M.,   OCT.    2D.  267 

there.  A  great  many  people  who  don't  think  of  this, 
are  surprised  to  receive  dispatches  ahead  of  time,  as 
they  think.  And  it's  laughable  to  see  their  astonish- 
ment sometimes."  And  the  clerk  laughed  in  verifi- 
cation of  it. 

But  Ben  heard  him  not.  His  mind  was  in  a  whirl. 
His  body  trembled.  His  legs  refused  their  support 
and  he  would  have  fallen  to  the  floor  had  not  an  at- 
tendant caught  him. 

"  You  'pears  to  be  sick,  sah.  Bettah  take  some 
fresh  air,  sah." 

"Lost!  Lost!  Lost!"  he  cried.  "Everything 
LOST!" 


268 


A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE  LITTLE  PARTNER. 

IT  was  a  lovely  sunny  afternoon,  two  days  after  the 
occurrence  narrated   in   the   preceding   chapter. 
Canal  Street  was  crowded  with  the  wealth  and  beauty 
and  fashion  of  the  Crescent  City.     Fair-haired  daugh- 
ters of  the  North  swept  by  in  pleasing  contrast  to  the 
black-eyed  beauties  of  the  far  South.     Men  lounged 
through  the  crowd  who  looked  like  pictures  from  some 
old  canvas  ;    with  dark,  swarthy,  oval  faces,  and  eyes 
of  midnight  darkness.     The  delicate  physique  of  the 
octoroon,  the  creamy  tint   of  a   still   lighter-tainted 
blood,  the  voluptuous  forms  of  the  griff,  the   olive- 
hued  creole,  and  the  clear  pink  and  white  of  the  An- 
glo-Saxon southron,  blended  in  an  ever-moving,  ever- 
shifting  panorama  of  life  that  entranced  the  eye  and 
bewildered  the  sense  of  the  stranger  within  the  city's 
gates. 

A  tall,  square-shouldered,  handsome  young  man 
floated  along  in  the  living  stream.  He  was  dressed 
in  the  height  of  fashion,  yet  with  the  pleasing  restric- 
tions of  good  taste  and  good  sense.  He  strolled  along 
with  the  easy  careless  step  of  one  accustomed  to  see- 


THE   LITTLE  PARTNER.  269 

ing  and  being  seen.  Many  were  the  admiring  flashes 
dark  voluptuous  eyes  cast  upon  him,  many  the  smiles 
he  received.  But  he  paid  but  little  heed  to  the  hom- 
age. His  face,  though  bronzed,  was  pale,  and  there 
was  a  weary,  restless,  unsatisfied  look  in  his  eye  that 
illy  comported  with  his  bearing. 

It  was  our  friend,  Benjamin  Cleveland,  rehabilitated, 
revamped,  repolished,  reset,  rehumanized,  and  re- 
stored to  society.  So  much  for  good  clothes.  Clothes 
do  not  make  the  man,  but  a  man  is  unmade  without 
them.  They  introduce  him  to  society  and  keep  him 
in  it  afterward.  We  like  to  rebel  against  their 
tyranny,  and  say  contemptuous  things  about  them,  but 
we  fear,  honor,  and  obey  them  all  the  same.  It  is  a 
pity  he  could  not  have  clothed  that  restless,  unsatisfied 
eye.  For  it  but  too  plainly  indicated  that  our  hero's 
thoughts  were  not  pleasant  or  satisfactory  ones. 
Which  indeed  they  were  not,  for  at  that  identical  mo- 
ment Ben  was  wishing  himself  at  the  Hotel  de  Log, 
in  the  old  livery  of  poverty  and  trampdom,  and  the 
old  liberty  of  vagabondage.  He  sighed  for  the  "  foot- 
path." He  longed  to  be  a  tramp  again.  His  good 
clothes  felt  queer  and  uncomfortable.  They  were 
shackles  upon  his  actions.  He  did  not  possess  them, 
but  they  possessed  him.  In  his  rags  he  could  have 
sat  on  the  curbstone  and  taken  a  rest,  with  no  one  to 
give  him  particular  notice.  He  daretj  not  do  it  now. 
As  a  tatterdemalion  he  could  have  stuck  his  hands  in^ 
his  pockets,  leaned  against  a  lamppost  with  crossed 
legs  and  enjoyed  the  scene.  Now — he  was  on  exhibi- 
tion himself.  The  first  night  he  attempted  to  sleep  in  a 
bed  he  laid  awake  a  long  time,  and  ultimately  had  to 


270  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

get  up  and  roll  himself  in  a  blanket  on  the  floor,  with 
the  washbasin  for  a  pillow,  before  sleep  would  come 
to  him.  He  had  no  hopes,  no  aspirations,  no  prompt- 
ings to  be  or  to  do.  He  seriously  thought  of  resum- 
ing tramping  as  a  profession.  A  panacea  for  a  mind 
diseased.  A  balm  for  the  wounds  of  his  disappoint- 
ments. A  trunk  full  of  his  clothing  had  been  for- 
warded to  New  Orleans,  and  his  wardrobe  was  satis- 
factory. He  had  four  hundred  dollars  in  his  pocket. 
All  the  money  he  had  in  the  world.  What  was  he  to 
do  ?  He  did  not  know,  and  did  not  care.  He  had 
lost  the  woman  he  loved  —  for  whom  had  he  to  labor  ? 
Himself  ?  Bah !  The  u  foot-path  "  was  a  luxury  and 
a  release.  He  was  half  inclined  to  lock  his  trunk 
and  send  it  to  some  charitable  institution  for  the  ben- 
efit of  the  inmates,  go  on  one  tremendous  spree  with 
his  four  hundred  dollars,  and  when  the  last  cent  was 
used  up  start  out  on  the  tramp. 

While  these  thoughts  were  looking  out  of  his  eyes 
he  nearly  ran  against  a  ragged  boy,  who  was  lounging 
on  the  sidewalk. 

"  Why,  Tommy  !  "  he  cried  in  surprise.  "  You  here 
in  New  Orleans  !  " 

But  Tommy  drew  back  and  looked  at  him  distrust- 
fully. 

"  Why  Tom,  don't  you  know  me  ?  Are  you  going 
back  on  an  old  friend  ?  I  am  Ben,  your  old  friend 
.Ben." 

"  I'll  — be  — bio  wed  !  "  and  Tommy  said  no  more, 
but  gazed  upon  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Come  Tommy,  shake  hands,  little  partner." 

"  Great  guns !     The  prodigal's  got  home,  the  calf  s 


THE  LITTLE  PARTNER.  271 

been  slaughtered,  he's  got  his  ring  on,  and —  Ben  is 
it  you  ?  " 

'•  Me  for  a  fact,  Tommy.  Do  I  look  so  mnch  al- 
tered?" 

"Altered!  Why  you  are  a  regular  swell.  Who'd 
ever  think  you'd  been  a  tramp  ! "  and  Tommy  was 
again  lost  in  astonishment.  Then  in  the  old  familiar 
tone,  he  said,  seizing  Ben's  hand  and  caressing  it  in 
his  own  peculiar  way,  "  but  I'm  so  glad  Bennie,  so 
glad  you  are  in  luck.  Do  you  live  here  ?  Do  your 
folks  live  here  ?  " 

"  No,  Tommy  dear,  I  do  not  live  here  nor  have  I 
any  relatives  here  —  nor  am  I  in  luck.  But  never 
mind  that,  I  want  you  to  come  with  me  and  get  a  new 
suit  of  clothes." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  my  togs,  Ben,  these  will  do  very 
well,"  and  Tommy  blushed,  and  laughed  a  little. 
"  This  suit  I'm  used  to  and  it  suits  me.  I  want  you 
to  walk  over  there  to  a  bench  in  the  park,  and  we 
will  sit  down  and  have  a  long  chat." 

After  they  had  seated  themselves  the  boy  said : 

"  I  never  expected  to  see  you  again,  Ben,  and  I've 
cried  night  after  night  thinking  about  you.  I  thought 
von  were  drowned.  When  we  were  thrown  into  the 

•/ 

water  I  caught  hold  of  a  spar,  but  a  piece  of  timber 
struck  against  it  and  knocked  me  off.  I  got  hold  of 
the  timber,  however,  and  was  picked  up  by  another 
boat,  an  Arkansas  River  packet,  and  brought  clear 
down  here.  Now  tell  me  how  it  all  happened  with 
you." 

Ben  related  the  adventures  already  known  to  the 
reader  and  moreover  told  Tommy  of  the  object  of  his 


272  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

tramp  to  New  Orleans,  and  how  he  had  lost  his  wager. 

"  It's  all  up  with  me  now,  Tom,"  said  he  sorrow- 
fully. "  I  have  a  great  mind  to  put  on  the  old  clothes, 
and  you  and  I  will  go  tramping  again." 

"  No,  no,  Bennie,  don't  do  that.  .  Do  something  no- 
ble and  worthy  of  yourself.  You  are  young,  the 
world  is  before  you ;  it  has  honors  and  happiness  for 
those  who  earn  them  ;  be  true  to  yourself,  Ben,  dear. 
Don't  sink  to  the  horrid  level  of  an  outcast,  a  tramp, 
when  you  may  live  to  honor  yourself  and  do  good  to 
your  fellowmen." 

Ben  gazed  at  him  in  blank  amazement.  He  could 
not  believe  his  ears. 

"  Tommy,  what  —  what  in  the  world's  come  over 
you  ?  You  speak  like  —  like  the  top  line  of  a  copy 
book !  " 

"  Ben,"  and  he  gently  laid  a  hand  on  Ben's  arm  j 
"Ben,  I  speak  what  I  feel.  I  like  you,  Ben  —  more 
than  you  know  or  understand.  I  want  to  see  you 
worthy  of  yourself,  so  that  I  may  be  proud  of  you. 
And  then,  sometime,  maybe,  when  the  little  tramp 
comes  to  you  and  says :  '  Hi,  Benuie,  old  boy ;  re- 
member old  times  ? '  you'll  think  kindly  of  your  little 
partner  —  that  once  was  —  perhaps,  rmiybe,  you'll 
love  him,  just  a  little  bit,  for  the  sake  of  old  times, 
aud  —  and  —  " 

"  Why  Tommy,  what  are  you  crying  about  ?  My 
dear  boy,  there's  something  wrong  with  you.  Tell 
me  what  it  is.  If  money  can  be  of  any  assistance, 
Tom,  I've  four  hundred  dollars  and  you're  welcome  to 
the  whole  of  it." 

"No,  no,  Ben,"  said  Tommy,  checking  his  tears, 


THE    LITTLE    1'AllTJsEK.  273 

41 1  do  not  want  money.  I  —  I  want  you  to  like  me 
Ben  —  to  —  to  —  Ben,  I  haven't  any  one  to  love  me !  " 
and  the  tears  came  again. 

"  There,  there,  my  dear  boy,  don't  give  way  that 
way.  I  love  you,  Tommy,  and  I  always  will.  Why 
little  one,  I  have  nobody  to  love  me.  I'm  alone  in 
the  world  myself.  And  —  and  —  " 

"'And'  what,  Ben?" 

"  And  I  always  expect  to  be,"  he  concluded  bit- 
terly. 

"  Oh,  you  will  find  some  one  to  love,  Benjamin," 
said  the  lad  more  cheerfully.  "  Where  there's  a  Jack 
there's  a  Jill,  you  know.  And  didn't  you  improve  the 
chances  of  your  wreck  on  the  sandbar  ?  I  thought 
you  were  smitten,  Ben?" 

"  Hold  on,  Tommy.  Don't  speak  that  way.  I  love 
that  dear  girl  more  than  words  can  express.  She  is 
an  angel,  Tom,  and  —  " 

44  Oh,  bah  !  Angel  nothing.  She's  just  a  pretty, 
simpering,  bread-and-butter  do-nothing  —  " 

"  Tommy,  stop  !  I  won't  have  it.  I  will  not  allow 
you  to  speak  so  of  that  young  lady." 

44  But  I  say  she  is.  She's  a  flirt !  She  just  is  and 
nothing  more  !  " 

44  Why  Thomas,  what  in  the  name  of  Heaven  has 
come  over  you  ?  You  look  and  speak  so  strange. 
You  vilify  this  young  lady  whom  you  do  not  know, 
and  whom  I  so  love.  You  —  " 

44  She  ain't  worthy  of  you,  Ben,  indeed  and  'deed 
she  aiut,"  and  Tommy's  voice  softened  and  the  tears 
commenced  to  flow  again. 

Ben   looked  at   him   anxiously.      He   is  sick,   he 


274  A   TIGHT    SQUEEZE. 

thought.  Troubles  and  privations  and  the  terrors  of 
the  wreck  on  the  river  have  exhausted  and  worried 
him  into  illness. 

"  Poor,  little  fellow,"  said  he,  putting  his  arm  about 
the  boy's  body  and  drawing  him  close  to  him.  "  You 
aint  well,  Tommy,  and  I  know  it.  There,  there  — 
never  mind  what  you  said.  I  know  you  meant  noth- 
ing rude.  You  are  only  mistaken,  Tommy.  Bertha 
is  one  of  the  noblest  girls  that  lives.  Why  do  you 
know  she  is  about  to  marry  a  man,  whom  I  know  she 
despises,  so  that  she  can  give  her  widowed  mother  and 
poor  bed-ridden  little  sister  a  home  ?  " 

"No!  Is  that  so?"  and  Tommy  stared  incredu- 
lously at  Ben. 

"  It  is  Tommy.-  She  is  to  marry  her  cousin  to  se- 
cure a  home  for  her  mother  and  sister,"  and  Ben  re- 
lated to  the  boy  what  Bertha  Ford  had  told  him  rela- 
tive to  her  uncle's  will. 

"And  he,  does  he  love  her?  " 

"From  the  conversation  we  both  overheard  in 
Pittsburg  I  should  say  not.  I  think  he  only  marries 
her  to  secure  the  money." 

"  Her  fate  will  be  terrible,'"  and  the  boy  shuddered. 

"  Terrible  indeed,  Tommy.  We  speak  about  wo- 
men selling  themselves,  who  of  us  knows  the  fearful 
yet  noble  sacrifices  they  may  be  making  in  their  sale  ?  " 

"  Good,  Ben,  good !  That  shows  your  heart  in  the 
right  place,  my  boy,  and  please  God  it  stay  there," 
said  Tommy,  very  earnestly.  "  But  she  little  knows 
the  man  she  is  about  to  marry." 

"  Do  you  know  him,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Ben,"  said  the  boy  speaking  sharp   and   quick, 


THE  LITTLE   PAKTNER.  275 

"  Listen  to  me  before  I  change  my  mind.  What  you 
have  told  me  has  —  has  altered  some  intentions  of  my 
own.  You  love  this  girl ;  does  she  love  you?  " 

"  I  know  she  does." 

"  Very  well.  Now  don't  ask  me  a  question  ;  don't 
say  a  word  to  me.  There  is  to  be  a  wedding  to-mor- 
row at  St.  Martin's  Church,  Georges  Street.  Her 
wedding.  You  attend  it.  Don't  fail.  You  shall  have 
her.  I,  Tommy,  your  little  tramp  friend,  will  make 
her  your  wife  ;  but  —  oh,  Bennie,  Bennie  —  "  and 
frantically  throwing  his  arm's  around  Ben's  neck,  he 
kissed  our  hero's  lips,  and  breaking  from  him,  rushed 
away. 

Long,  Ben  sat,  lost  in  astonishment.  Stupefied. 
Then  he  slowly  made  his  way  back  to  his  hotel. 


276  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 


CHAPTER     XXXIII. 

IN  AT   THE   DEATH. 

ST.  Martin's  Church  did  not  wear  a  very  festival 
appearance.  It  looks  more  like  a  funeral  than 
a  marriage,  that  is  about  to  take  place,  said  Ben  to 
himself,  as  he  quietly  entered  that  edifice  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  and  seated  himself  in  the  dark  corner 
of  a  dark  pew,  where  he  could  observe  what  trans- 
pired without  being  himself  noticed. 

A  few  idlers,  evidently  people  who  seeing  a  church 
door  open  thought  it  as  good  a  place  to  sit  down  and 
rest  as  any  that  would  offer,  dropped  in  and  sat  in  the 
rear  seats.  One  had  several  bundles,  evidently  a 
clerk  taking  a  purchase  to  the  home  of  a  customer 
who  sought  the  opportunity  to  rest  his  arms  and  legs 
among  the  cushions  of  St.  Martin's.  Some  well 
dressed  people,  probably  strangers  in  the  city,  sat  in 
respectful  silence  while  they  examined  the  edifice  with 
their  eyes.  A  country  couple  chatted  pleasantly  to- 
gether, and  now  and  then  indulged  in  a  little  laugh, 
followed  by  a  great  deal  of  whispering.  Near  them  a 
man  sat  down  with  a  large  paper  of  peanuts,  which  he 
was  contentedly  devouring  when  the  sexton  politely 


IN"   AT   THE   DEATH.  277 

suggested  that  he  either  put  them  up  or  swallow  the 
shells. 

It  was  evidently  to  be  a  private  affair.  The  church 
was  dark  and  gloomy,  and  only  the  shutters  of  the 
chancel  windows  were  opened,  throwing  a  faint,  mys- 
terious light  upon  the  long  queer-looking  line  of  empty 
pews. 

Presently  the  officiating  minister  entered  the  chan- 
cel from  a  door  in  the  rear,  clothed  in  his  long  white 
surplice,  and  sat  down  while  his  eyes  investigated  the 
inside  of  a  prayer-book,  and  kept  glancing  over  the 
top  of  it  and  down  the  main  aisle  as  though  impatient 
for  their  coming.  Then  the  sound  of  wheels  were 
heard  without,  the  organ  startled  those  within  by 
breaking  out  in  a  peal  of  sacred  melody,  and  through 
the  open  doors  came  the  bridal  party.  Bertha  leaned 
on  the  arm  of  her  uncle.  She  was  dressed  richly, 
but  quietly,  in  a  travelling  suit,  as  though  the  inten- 
tion was  to  commence  the  wedding  tour  at  the  chan- 
cel railing.  She  was  very,  very  pale,  and  the  great, 
glorious,  grey  eyes  seemed  to  cover  her  whole  face, 
and  looked  black  in  their  intensity.  But  her  Jiead  was 
erect  and  her  step  firm.  She  knew  what  she  was 
doing,  she  had  counted  the  cost.  She  was  accepting 
a  lifetime  of  misery  that  she  might  give  a  home  to 
those  she  loved.  Ben's  breath  came  short  and  thick, 
and  his  hands  worked  nervously  as  his  eyes  were  fas- 
tened upon  her.  An  elderly  lady,  the  aunt  of  Miss 
Ford,  was  brought  in  on  the  arm  of  Arthur  Blackoat. 
Blackoat  looked  triumphant.  He  was  a  trifle  pale, 
and  his  swarthy  countenance  in  the  dim  light  looked 
sallow.  But  his  dark  eye  flashed  out  the  "  success  " 


278  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

that  was  crowning  his  desires,  and  he  looked  impa- 
tient for  the  ceremony  to  proceed.  A  dozen  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  friends  of  the  Blasters,  had  entered 
the  church  with  them,  and  among  them  Ben  was  sur- 
prised to  see  none  other  than  Mr.  Jonah  Nipper,  in 
company  with  a  very  well  dressed  dignified  gentleman 
of  middle  age.  These  two  sat  a  little  apart  from  the 
rest. 

Presently  Bertha  Ford  and  Arthur  Blackoat  stood 
at  the  chancel  railing  alone  and  the  beautiful  marriage 
service  of  the  Episcopal  Church  was  commenced  by 
the  officiating  clergyman. 

Ben  could  hardly  comprehend  what  was  taking 
place ;  could  hardly  realize  that  the  woman  he  so 
adored  was  being  every  moment  separated  farther  and 
farther  from  him  by  a  chasm  that  could  never  be 
bridged  over  for  his  hopes  to  cross  on.  Then  his  ears 
caught  the  solemn  words  : 

"  Into  this  holy  estate  these  two  persons  come  now 
to  be  joined.  If  any  man  can  show  just  cause  why 
they  may  not  be  lawfully  joined  together  let  him  now 
speak  oi\else  hereafter  forever  hold  his  peace." 

Cleveland  could  hardly  restrain  himself  from  shout- 
ing out : 

"  I  do  !     The  woman  loves  me  !  " 

Bah,  Ben.  Don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself.  That 
is  not  a  "just  cause." 

There  being  no  interruption  the  clergyman  con- 
tinued : 

"  I  require  and  charge  you  both,  as  ye  will  answer 
at  the  dreadful  day  of  judgment,  when  the  secrets  of 
all  hearts  shall  be  disclosed,  that  if  either  of  you 


IN   AT   THE  DEATH.  279 

know  any  impediment  why  ye  may  not  be  lawfully 
joined  together  in  matrimony  ye  do  now  confess  it. 
(Blackoat  was  steadying  himself  with  one  hand  on 
the  chancel  railing.)  For  be  ye  well  assured  that  if 
any  persons  are  joined  together  otherwise  than  as  God's 
word  doth  allow  their  marriage  is  not  lawful." 

Blackoat  released  the  railing  and  stood  erect,  but 
his  face  was  very  pale  and  his  eyes  rested  steadily  on 
his  feet.  Turning  to  him  the  minister  asked  : 

"  Wilt  thou  have  this  woman  to  be  thy  wedded 
wife,  to  live  together  after  God's  ordinance  in  the 
holy  state  of  matrimony  ?  Wilt  thou  love  her,  com- 
fort her,  honor  her  and  keep  her  in  sickness  and  in 
health,  and  forsaking  all  others  keep  thee  only  unto 
her,  so  long  as  ye  both  shall  live  ?  " 

And  Blackoat  answered : 

"  I  will." 

"  You  LIE  !  " 

The  words  rang  out  clear  and  sharp.  They  re- 
sounded through  the  edifice.  Echoed  along  the  gal- 
leries. Rebounded  back  from  the  chancel,  and  filled 
the  whole  interior  with  a  cold,  metallic  startling  ring. 
All  present  sprang  to  their  feet  and  looked  in  amaze- 
ment down  the  main  aisle.  Blackoat,  of  all  there, 
did  not  turn  his  head.  Had  he  been  cast  of  bronze 
he  could  not  have  been  more  motionless,  more  dead. 

"  Who  interrupts  the  ceremony  ?  "  asked  the  minis- 
ter recovering  from  his  surprise. 

"  I  do  !  "  and  a  lithe  form  in  male  attire  bounded 
up  the  aisle  and  stood  in  front  of  the  chancel  rail. 
"I  do !  His  LAWFUL  WIFE ! " 

It  was  TOMMY  ! 


280  A  TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

To  his  dying  day  Ben  will  never  forget  the  horror 
his  eyes  then  saw.  The  church  had  the  stillness  of 
death.  Not  a  muscle  moved  of  those  there  gathered. 
Eyes  starting  from  their  sockets  reached  for  the  mass 
at  the  chancel  rail,  but  motion  there  was  none.  All 
might  have  been  chiselled  out  of  stone.  Pale  as 
death  the  figure  clad  in  male  attire  stood  between  the 
woman  and  man,  a  hand  extended  repelling  the  one, 
a  hand  upraised  denouncing  the  other,  two  glittering 
brown  eyes  fastened  on  the  man's  face.  And  the 
man  —  slowly  he  turned  upon  his  feet,  as  though 
some  mechanism  moved  an  inanimate  object.  Slowly 
came  he  round  and  faced  the  glittering  eyes.  The 
eyes  of  the  dead!  And  as  he  faced  them  the  sallow 
of  his  countenance  turned  to  the  white  of  clay,  his 
jaw  dropped  upon  his  breast,  revealing,  in  ghastly 
display,  his  white  teeth.  And  up,  up,  up,  from  the 
ground  came  his  eyes,  until  they  rested  on  the  white 
face  before  him.  Then  in  a  yell  that  called  a  respon- 
sive shriek  from  all  present,  he  shrieked,  "  GOD  AL- 
MIGHTY I  "  and  fell  back  —  DEAD. 


CONCLUSION.  281 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

READER,  we  thank  you  for  your  kind  attention. 
Our  tale  is  told,  and  we  shall  impose  upon  it 
but  a  moment  longer.  It  would  not  probably  inter- 
est you  to  know  that  the  twenty  thousand  dollars 
worth  of  forged  notes,  forged  by  the  dead  man,  still 
remain  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Jonah  Nipper  —  and  are 
likely  so  to  do  for  all  time  to  come.  During  the  first 
three  years  of  their  married  life,  Ben  and  his  beauti- 
ful wife  received  a  letter  without  a  signature.  It 
told  of  a  young  girl  that  had  been  betrayed  by  a 
heartless  man,  and  persuaded  by  him  to  leave  her 
humble  home.  Harassed  by  her  importunities  in  a 
moment  of  weakness  to  his  cold,  crafty  self,  he  had 
allowed  a  marriage  ceremony  to  be  performed. 
Shortly  after,  the  man's  uncle  died  leaving  provisions 
in  his  will  that  made  the  man  hate  the  poor  helpless 
being  he  found  himself  tied  to.  Her  death  was  his 
only  release.  A  dark  night  on  a  Hudson  River 
steamer,  a  blow  and  a  splash  in  the  waters,  and  he 
thought  himself  a  free  man.  But  the  girl  lived. 
Lived  to  hunt  him  down  with  the  fury  of  a  tigress. 


282  A   TIGHT   SQUEEZE. 

In  poverty  she  pursued  her  revenge.  As  a  tramp,  in 
male  attire,  she  tracked  her  would  be  murderer.  At 
last  revenge  seemed  to  come  within  her  reach.  She 
would  wait  until  he  had  violated  the  law,  and  then 
crush  him  and  his  hopes,  as  a  bigamist.  But  mean- 
while the  love  that  had  died  blossomed  anew.  She 
thought  to  live,  and  love  once  more.  It  was  not  to  be. 
The  object  of  her  new  love  had  given  his  heart  to  an- 
other. Still  she  loved  him,  and  as  a  last  offering  of 
her  love  placed  within  his  reach  the  idol  of  his  heart, 
all  unsullied. 

Both  Bertha  and  Ben  strove  to  discover  her  where- 
abouts. From  that  day  to  this,  "  Tommy  "  has  been 
neither  seen  nor  heard  of  by  them.  They  live  in  all 
the  luxury  wealth  can  offer.  As  happy  as  happy  can 
be.  Smythe,  Hough  and  Wasson  were  at  the  wed- 
ding, and  all  claim  to  have  provided  Ben  with  this 
terrestrial  paradise  by  sending  him  on  that  trip  to 
New  Orleans.  The  Cleveland's  house  is  known  to 
the  fraternity  of  the  fcot-path  far  and  wide.  There 
is  not  a  vagabond  of  them  but  knows  that  a  hearty 
meal  and  substantial  help  await  all  who  knock  at  that 
door.  And  their  calls  are  numerous  and  frequent. 


No.l 


Always  Get  the  Best.      50  of  the  Choicest  Selections  in  the 

Reading  Club  and  Handy  Speaker, 


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Price,  cloth,  60  cents;  paper,  16  cents. 

CONTENTS. 

The  Red  Jacket George  M.  Baker. 

Old  Age 

Mahmoud Leigh  Hunt. 

The  Closet  Scene  from  "  Hamlet"          . 

How  he  saved  St.  Michael's    .        .        .    Aldine. 


Mr.  Caudle  and  bis  Second  Wife    .        .  Douglu*  Jerrold's  Fireside  Saint* 

Tauler WMUier. 

The  Doorstep £.  C.  Stedman. 

Old  Fanner  Gray  gets  photographed     . 

Mr'le3a'nih1ggller'8.Thr.ee   ^^    *  i  Capt.  Marryat. 

The  Jester's  Sermon         ....  Walter  Thornbury. 

«'  The  Boofer  Lady  "  Dickens's  "  Mutual  Friend." 

Defiance  of  Harold  the  Dauntless  .        .  S<-ott. 

Battle  Hymn Kiimer. 

The  Story  of  the  Faithful  Soul       .       .  Adelaide  Procter. 

"  Curfew  must  not  ring  To-Isight "        . 

The  Showman's  Courtship      .        .        . 

How  Terry  saved  his  Bacon    ... 

The  Senator's  Pledge       ....  Charles  Sumner. 

Overthrow  of  Belshazzar       .        .        .  Barry  Cornwall. 

The  Hour  of  Prayer        ....  Mrs.  Jfemans. 

The  Squire's  Story John  Phoenix. 

The  Happiest  Couple       .        .       .        .  Sheridan. 

Godiva       .......  Tennyson. 

Farmer  Bent's  Sheep- Washing       .        . 

The  Deutsch  Maud  Muller      .        .        .  Carl  Pretzel. 

Charles  Sumner Carl  Schurz. 

The  Bricklayers        .        •        .        .        .  G.  II.  Barnes. 

A  Stranger  in  the  Pew     «...  Harper's  Mag. 

The  Mistletoe-Bough        ....  Bayley. 

The  Puzzled  Census-Taker     .       .       .  J.  G.  Saxe, 

The  Voices  at  the  Throne       .        .        .  /.  Westicood. 

Hans  Breitmann's  Party  ....  Charles  G.  Leland. 

Rob  Roy  MacGregor        ....  Walter  Scott. 

Der  Drummer 

The  Yankee  and  the  Dutchman's  Dog  . 
Popping  the  Question  .... 
The  Bumpkin's  Courtship  ... 

The  Happy  Life Sir  ffennj  Wotton. 

At  the  Soldiers'  Graves   ....  Ifobert  Collyer. 

Xobmly  there    .        .        .  •     .        .        .  Anonymous. 

The  Factory-Girl's  Diary         .        .        .  Morton. 
In  the  Tunnel   •••••• 

"  Jones "....... 

Tin-  Whistler 

"  Good  and  Better  "         .... 

Bold  by  all  booksellers  and  piiblifiherx,  and  sent  by  mail,  postpaid,  on 
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,2 


Reading  Club  and  Handy  Speaker, 


Edited  by  GEORGE  M.  BAKER. 
Price,  cloth,  60  cents;  paper,  15  cents. 
CONTENTS. 


The  Rescue John  Brownjohn. 

The  Pickwickians  on  Ice IUckens. 

A  Picture Mrs.  If.  A.  Bingham, 

Tobe's  Monument      ......  Elizabeth  Kilham. 

The  Two  Anchors R.  II.  Ktoddard. 

The  Old  Ways  and  the  New    ....  John  II.  Yates. 

By  the  Alma  River J/m  Mil  loch. 

Trial  Scene  from  "  Merchant  of  Venice  "     .  Shakttneart. 

The  Sisters John  G.  Whittier. 

Farm- Yard  Song 

The  Fortune-Hunter John  G.  Saxe. 

Curing  a  Cold Mark  Twain. 

In  the  Bottom  Drawer 

Two  Irish  Idyls Alfred  Perceval  (,'raM«. 

Over  the  River Priest. 

The  Modest  Cousin Sheridan  Knowlet. 

Biddy's  Troubles 

The  Man  with  a  Cold  in  his  Head   . 

Harry  and  I 

The  Shadow  on  the  Wall         .... 

The  Little  Puzzler Sarah  M.  B.  I'iutt. 

A  Traveller's  Evening  Song     ....  Mrs.  Ilemans. 
Calling  a  Boy  in  the  Morning  .... 

Cooking  and  Courting Tom  to  Ned. 

A  Tragical  Tale  of  the  Tropics       ... 

The  Paddock  Elms B.  E.  Woolf. 

The  Bobolink Aldine. 

Toothache 

The  Opening  of  the  Piano       ....  Atlantic  Monthly. 

Press  On Park  Benjamin. 

The  Beauty  of  Youth       .....  Theodore  Parker. 

Queen  Mab       '.......  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

A  Militia  General Thomas  Concin. 

Address  of  Spottycus       ..... 

Our  Visitor,  and  what  he  came  for 

"  What's  the  Matter  with  that  Nose?  "  .        .  Our  Fat  Contributor. 

Workers  and  Thinkers     .....  Ituakin. 

The  Last  Ride  .......  Nora  Perry. 

Baby  Atlas 

Possession Oioen  Meredith. 

There  is  no  Death Sir  E.  Bidwer  Lytton. 

rhe  Learned  Negro  ......  Congregutionalist. 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee       • .     '  .        .        .  Sarah  F.  Adam*. 

A  Short  Sermon        .  Not  lit/  a  Hard-Shell  Baptist 

&oin"  Home  To-day  ..*....  W.  M.  Carleton. 

The  Broken  Pitcher  ......  Anonymous. 

\  Baby's  Soliloquy  ...... 

The  Double  Sacrifice        .....  Arthur  William  Aitati*, 

Sunday  Morning        ......  George  A.  Baker,  jun. 

The  Quaker  Meeting Samuel  Lover. 

told  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent  by  mail  on  receipt  r;     /v* 

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Selections  in  the 

Beading  Club  and  Handy  Speaker, 

Edited  by  GEORGE  M.  BAKER.  • 

Price,  cloth,  SO  cents;  paper,  IS  cents. 

CONTENTS. 

Fra  Giacomo Robert  Buchanan. 

Bob  Cratchit's  Christmas-Dinner        .        .  Dickens. 

The  First  Snow-Fail James  Russell  Lowell. 

The  Countess  and  the  Serf  .        .        .        ,  J.  Sheridan  Knowles. 

Aurelia's  Unfortunate  Young  Man      .        .  Mark  Twain. 

Losses Francis  Browne. 

Mad  Luce ,       .  All  the  Year  Round. 

The  Solemn  Book-Agent      ....  Detroit  Free  Press. 

What  the  Old  Man  said         ....  Alice  Bobbins. 

Bone  and  Sinew  and  Brain  ....  John  Boyle  O'Reilly. 

Pat  and  the  Oysters 

Twilight Spanish  Gypsy. 

The  Singer Alice  Williams. 

Speech  of  the  Hon.  Pervese  Peabody  on 

the  Acquisition  of  Cuba 

Bunker  Hill George  IT.  Culvert. 

Two  Births Charles  J,  Sprague. 

The  Old  Fogy  Man 

Auction  Mad 

The  Wedding-Fee R.  M.  Streeter. 

Schneider's  Tomatoes Cltarles  f.  Adams. 

The  Wolves J.  T.  Trowbridge. 

The  Ballad  of  the  Oysterman       .        .        .  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 
The  Deck-Hand  and  the  Mule      . 

A  Lay  of  Real  Life Tom  Hood. 

Riding  Down Nora  Perry. 

The  Minute-men  of  '75         ....  George  William  Curtis. 

Uncle  Reuben's  Baptism       ....  Vickuburg  Herald. 

How  Persimmons  took  Cah  ob  der  Baby    .  St.  Nicholas. 

The  Evils  of  Ignorance         ....  Horace  Mann. 

Scenes  from  the  School  of  Reform      .        .  Thomas  Morion. 

Ambition Henry  Clay. 

The  Victories  of  Peace         ....  Charles  Sumner. 

For  Love 

The  Flower-Mission,  junior         .        .        .  Karl  Marble.' 

The  Sons  of  New  England  ....  Hon.  George  B.  Loring. 

The  Joncsvi  lie  Singin' Quire        .        .        .  My  Opinions  and  Betsey  BobbH^ 

The  Last  Tilt Henry  li.  Hirxt. 

The  Burial  of  the  Dane        ....  Henry  Howard  Brownell. 

Appeal  in  Behalf  of  American  Liberty      .  Story. 

The  Church  of  the  Best  Licks     .        .        .  Edward  Eggleston. 

The  Roman  Soldier.    Destruction  of  Her- 1  A ,»,„„../,.„, 

culancum          ....        %        1  Ather 

Temperance Wendell  Phillips. 

Roast  Pig.    A  Bit  of  Lamb Charles  Lamb. 

Himilm  Similibus 

Two  Loves  and  a  Life William,  Sawyer. 

The  Recantation  of  Galileo  ....  frauds  E.  Raleigh. 

Mosquitoes K.  K. 

The  Law  of  Kindness;  or,  The  Old  Wo-  \  P/.,      „       .„ 

man's  Hallway  Signal     .        .        .        j  *»*»*»»•**• 

Ode (feorije  Sevnott. 

Mr.  Stiver's  Horse The.  J><inuury  News  Man. 

dffJd  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealer*,  and  xent  by  mail,  postpaid,  <>n 
receipt  of  price. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


If  you  are  looking  for  Something  New,  you  will  find  It  among 
50  of  the  Choicest  Selections  in  the 

Reading  Club  and  Handy  Speaker, 

Edited  by  GEORGE  M.  BAKER. 
Price,  cloth,  60  cent's;  paper,  IS  cents. 

CONTENTS. 

The  Tramp George  M.  Baker. 

Joan  of  Arc DeQ.idnv.ey. 

Decoration T.  W.  Higginwn. 

Minot's  Ledge Fitsjames  O'Brien. 

Scene  from  "  The  Hunchback  "...  Sheridan  Knowles. 

Widder  Green's  Last  Words  .... 

The  Cane-Bottomed  Chair      ....  Thackeray. 

The  House-Top  Saint Mrs.  J.  D.  Chaplin. 

Tom  „ Constance  Fenimore  Woolson 


aper  Don  t  bay 

The  Post-Boy Mrs.  C.  J.  Despard. 

What  is  a  Minority? J.  B.  Gmtgh. 

Robert  of  Lincoln Bryant. 

Daddy  Worthless Lizzie  W.  Champney. 

Zenobia's  Defence William  Ware. 

William  Tell 

Mary  Maloney's  Philosophy   ....    Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

Custer's  Last  Charge Frederick  Whittaker. 

Mother's  Pool 

The  Little  Black-Eyed  Rebel ....     Will  Carleton. 
"  The  Palace  o'  the  King "      .  William  Mitchell. 

Grandfather Theodore  Parker. 

"  Business "  in  Mississippi      ,        .        .        .     Chronicle,  Augusta,  Ga. 

The  Indian's  Claim Everett. 

The  Battle-Flag  of  Sigurd      .... 

The  Way  Astors  are  Made     .       .        .        .    J.  M.  Bailey. 

Mr.  Watkins  celebrates Detroit  Prcmi. 

The  Palmetto  and  the  Pine     ....    Mrs.  Virginia  L.  French. 

Pip's  Fight Dickenx. 

Cuddle  Doon Alexander  Anderson. 

The  Hot  Roasted  Chestnut     .        .        .        .J.Ed.  Milliken. 

St.  John  the  Aged 

The  Bell  of  Atri Longfellow. 

Mr.  O'Hoolahan's  Mistake       .... 

The  Little  Hero 

The  Village  Sewing-Society    .... 
He  Giveth  His  Beloved  Sleep 

The  Dignity  of  Labor Rev.  Nev)man  Hall. 

A  Little  Shoe 

"  The  Penny  Ye  Meant  to  Qi'e  "    .        .        .    H.  II. 

A  Question 

The  Cobbler's  Secret 

The  Lost  Cats 

The  Pride  of  Battery  B F.  II.  Gaasaway. 

Leedle  Yaweob  Strauss Charles  F.  Adams. 

Two  Portraits 

Elder  Sniffles'  Courtship         .... 

Goin'  Somewhere M.  Quad. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers  and  newwlralfrs,  and  sent  by  mail,  postpaid, 
receipt  of  price. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


The  Freshest,  Brightest,  and  Best,  are  the  50  Choicest 
Selections  in  the 


No.5 


Reading  Club  and  Handy  Speaker, 

Edited  by  GEORGE  M.  BAKER. 

Price,  cloth,  60  cents;  paper,  16  cents. 

CONTENTS. 


The  Ballad  of  Ronald  Clare    . 
The  Scotchman  at  the  Play    .        . 
The  Dead  Doll         .... 
A  Charge  with  Prince  Rupert 
An  Irish  Wake         .... 
The  Honest  Deacon         .        .        . 
Tact  and  Talent        .... 
The  Two  Glasses     .... 
Whistling  in  Heaven 
Noble  Revenge         .... 
Dot  Baby  off  Mine.    (By  permission) 
The  Amateur  Spelling-Match 
Why  Biddy  and  Pat  got  Married  . 
Art-Matters  in  Indiana    .        .        . 
Mis.s  Edith  helps  Things  along 
The  Flood  and  the  Ark  . 
Not  Dead,  but  Risen 
Ballad  of  a  Baker    .... 

Five 

Uncle  Remus'  Revival  Hymn         . 
A  Mysterious  Disappearance         . 
An  Indignation-Meeting. 
Something  Spilt       .... 
From  the  Sublime  to  the  Ridiculous 

"  'tis  but  a  Step  "... 
Scene  from  "  The  Marble  Heart"  . 
The  Seven  Ages  .... 
A  Watch  that  "  wanted  cleaning." 

(By  permission)        ... 

Tired  Mothers 

Good-by Frank  Foxcroft. 

"  One  of  the  Boys  "         .... 

The  Bridge H.  W.  Longfellow. 

A  Rhine  Legend Curtis  Guild. 

The  Little  Shoes  did  it 
Burdock's  Goat 
Faithful  Little  Peter 
Blue  and  Gray         . 
Mollie,  or  Sadie?      . 
Butterwick's  Weakness 
Between  the  Lines  . 
Somebody's  Mother 
The  Ballad  of  Constance 
Failed 

The  Canteen C.  G.  Ualpine 

A  Blessing  on  the  Dance         .        .        .    Jrwin  Kussell. 
An  Exciting  Contest        .... 

The  Last  Redoubt Alfred  Austin. 

"If  We  Knew" 

Bcene  from  "London  Assurance"         .    Htucicault. 

The  Kaiser's  Feast 

Sideways 

Suld  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  and  sent  by  mail,  postpaid,  on 
receipt  of  price. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


Thomas  S.  Collier. 
"  Maiixie  Waitrh." 
Margaret  Vandegrift. 
T.  W.  Uigginson. 


London  Atlas. 
Harper's  Magazine. 

Charles  Fallen  Adams. 
FAirl  Marble. 
R.  H.  Stoddard. 

Bret  Harte. 


Charles  Dickens'  Pickwick  Papers. 


Charles  Selby. 
Shakspeare. 

J.  T.  Fields. 


William  Winter. 


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